


On the Other Side

by Ellia Bronsky (Ellia_Bronsky)



Series: On the Other Side [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Dubious Consent, Lord!bottom, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Other, Romance, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-06-28 16:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15711159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellia_Bronsky/pseuds/Ellia%20Bronsky
Summary: When you happen to come to the other side you may found what you have been missing for a long time.Possible OOC, !SaneVoldemort, !humanVoldemort, Lord!bottom, somewhat !reasonableHarry.MPreg in later chapters.AU starting from the events in the DoM at the end of the fifth book/film.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born on the spur of the moment as a means of procrastinating the task for my real job (translator), so it has very rough outline of a plan, plot twists created on the go. Meaning all the juicy bits (MPreg, Angst or Humor, on which side Harry is going to end etc.) were also undecided until now: I have only recently chosen who out of the two in the pairing would be the bearer, so to speak, of the children. Hence I added the tag, finally.  
>  **Really sorry to those of you who started to read this and waited for Harry to be bottom, as he is in most texts out there. I decided to do something unusual for a change, instead of repeating the standart cliche. Thanks for reading up till now. I am not offended, as I understand that someone's kink may very well be some one other's squeak.**  
>  The title may be uderstood either literary, or as metaphor. Think what you like ;-).  
> As usual, I am not sticking to any schedule here, but try to have at least one extra chapter ready, before posting.  
> P.S. I know, I shouldn't have started on yet another long story, while I have a huge pile of them already! But I couldn't help it, it just came and knocked to be let out of my system.:p
> 
> * * *
> 
> Formatting in my usual style:  
> " _Parseltongue_ "  
> ' _mental conversation/thoughts_ '  
> 'quotations' (i.e. something in quotation marks, but inside a bigger phrase already put in "double quotation marks": direct speech, titles and names etc.)  
>  ** _emphasis_** inside phrase in _Parsel_ or _mind-talk_  
>  **emphasis** elsewhere outside phrases in italics

Moments ago Harry was chasing for manically cackling Bellatrix through the twisted corridors of the Department of Mysteries and around the damned Arc with the Veil, through which Sirius had fallen. And now Harry, too, was falling through that same Arc, the only sweet thought in his already mourning mind being that he was not alone in this and his companion in certain death was none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, who had arrived upon Bella’s call right beside the already falling Harry.

But just before Harry knew it the direction of their fall took sudden turn, some unknown force or maybe air itself starting to slowly and carefully drag them sideways, postponing their demise.

“Potter!” the Dark Lord barked. “What did you do?!”

“Wha –? I didn’t do a damned thing, you snake brain!” Harry responded in kind. “It must to be your doing –!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter! I put you under Crucio seconds ago, I couldn’t have done a thing in the following blink of an eye!”

“That was rather lame Cruciatus, was it not?” Harry laughed. “It shouldn’t have _tickled_ me of all things, I don’t think!”

They were still flying sideways: going steadily to the left from the original location of their “entrance” to this place, then abruptly turning to the right from their first “path” of moving, then again to the left, as if someone was trying to confuse them, so that they won’t be able to remember from where exactly they had come originally. Right when Harry thought of this their direction changed again: Harry felt his insides protesting in attempt to stay put, while his body was twisted and turned upside down, as did the Dark Lord’s lithe form beside him.

“Potter!” he barked again out of habit. “What did you do – What did you think of right now?!”

“Nothing!” Harry refused to be intimidated by the man hanging upside down with his robe covering half his snake-face. And that was only because he made a special effort to hold it in place so that it would not obscure the view, and not because strange force dragging them here and there decided to give the Dark Lord a bit of a decorum.

“I am Master of both Legilimency and Occlumency, Potter! Even if I thought of anything I doubt there exist any thing or person with ability to pick stray thoughts out of **_my_** mind!”

Harry puffed disbelievingly.

“So sure of yourself, Tom?”

“Don’t call me that!” the Dark Lord shrieked indignantly.

“And what should I call you? You-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Quite long title, don’t you think? Or maybe you agree to me calling you Snake-Face? Moldie-Voldie?”

The Dark Lord hissed angrily without coherent words.

“No? Thought so. Then can I call you Riddle?”

Voldemort snarled enraged.

“Oh-kay! Then we are back, where we started, Tom!” Harry chirped.

Voldemort sighed.

“What about ‘Dark Lord’?” he suggested in tired tone.

“Not bloody likely!” Harry spat. “You are no lord to anyone, and certainly, not to me!”

“Don’t make me curse you again, Potter!”

“Try me,” Harry snickered. “First time it didn’t work, as I remember.”

“Something must have blocked it then,” the Dark Lord suggested, his wand already at a right angle and the curse almost on his lips.

“Something tells me you’ll regret it,” murmured Harry under his nose, calmly watching the spectacle.

They were still flying, the direction now being quite comfortable – sideways with a slight angle downwards, like sliding down the slope of the snow-covered hill sitting on one’s hind-side.

The Dark Lord uttered the torture curse – and next instant he was turned upside down again with force, his face going slightly green. The Dark Lord took careful gulp of air, his complexion returning to normal.

Harry remained unscratched, though he did snicker a little at the show of Voldemort going sick.

“Care to explain this?!” the Dark Lord hissed after regaining his balance.

“Nope,” popping out last syllable with mirth, responded Harry and, seeing as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him again with a curse at his lips, quickly whispered “Silencio!” under his breath, hoping that this one would work. He smirked when no sound escaped Voldemort even at third try.

Seething with fury the Dark Lord narrowed his yes at Harry and waved his free hand subtly without a word. Harry suddenly found himself turned upside down. Growling in frustration he glared at the Dark Lord only to receive similarly heated glare in response.

“Fine, fine!” Harry grumbled and cancelled the silencing charm. “But don’t you start again with curses and insults!” he managed to get threatening finger in the Dark Lord’s face, but mostly because the latter was still in the same upturned position, parallel to Harry’s.

“I don’t take orders from anyone, less of all – you!” spat Voldemort.

Harry just shrugged peacefully and even managed a smile, though that was a bit strained and crooked.

Voldemort issued another angry hiss then felt quiet for some time, his brow furrowed in contemplation. At some point he even forgot to hold up his robe, which had been threatening to fell onto his face ever since he was upturned.

Harry continued to smirk for a while, then became bored.

Nothing was happening, they were simply flying Merlin knows where in the wind, noticeable only because it dragged them somewhere, as no air flows were felt on the skin.

“Potter,” Voldemort drawled without much malice, “what do you think that was?”

“Huh?” Harry answered incoherently.

“We have fallen through an arc. What do you think that was?”

“I’ve no idea,” Harry shrugged. “Why?”

“I _think_ that I know,” murmured Voldemort quietly. “And it bothers me.”

“What exactly is not to your liking?” snorted Harry. “That we got here together? That we fly with our heads over our heels? What?” The last question came out a bit hysterically, despite the otherwise calm exterior Harry sported during the rest of his speech.

“Argh! You are insufferable!” Voldemort snarled. “Potter, if I am not mistaken your dog of a godfather had fallen before us. Do you see him? Or had you seen him emerge through the other side of that arc?”

It was Harry’s turn to crease his brows in contemplation.

“No-o,” he let out slowly, unsure. “What are you trying to say?”

“I have little insight in the doings of the Department of Mysteries. Just recently they were researching some ‘l'Arc de la Mort’ if my memory is correct. Should I translate it to you?”

“Um… The Arc of Death?” Harry suggested weakly, already seeing where it led. “You mean to say we are dead, right?”

“It might have been true, bar one fact,” Voldemort agreed.

“What?”

“Or rather two facts: first is that I simply cannot die. And also neither of us should be able to cast any spells here, if it is indeed the realm of death. He does not take kindly to usurpers of his powers,” knowingly added Voldemort with distress written all over his snake-like features and ruby eyes glinting with indecipherable emotion.

“Hold on here! What do you mean ‘you cannot die’?!” Harry exclaimed indignantly.

“I acquired the means to gain immortality,” Voldemort responded cryptically, pursing his thin lips. “The details should be of no concern to you. How you happen to stay alive, that is what’s bothering me. Do you per chance was force-fed Unicorn blood at birth? That should explain why I hadn’t got a chance to end your miserable life even in your crib, too.”

“I am not a monster, unlike someone here! I did absolutely nothing!” Harry seethed. “What did you do, that’s what bothers _me_!”

“It is insignificant at this moment,” calmly noted Voldemort. “It seems we are finally landing,” he pointed ahead of them to the distinct shape of a hill, which had appeared out of thin air a second ago.

“If you land on me I will kick you!” Harry warned the Dark Lord.

And just in time: their flight abruptly ended with them both falling in a tangled heap at a hill and rolling from the top to its foot.


	2. ~I~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the moment I have several chapters (up to the end of part III) written, but need to polish them a bit before posting. Expect the next part in a week (possibly, next Friday) and I may stick for this schedule for a while afterwards, too.
> 
> * * *

“I’ve warned you!” Harry snapped, violently kicking and thrashing under heavier form, which happened to fall on top of him, the Dark Lord’s robe covering them both. “My eyes!” Harry screamed, squinting said eyes in disgust: as it happened, Voldemort was wearing nothing beside the black robe, which was now lying half on his head and half beside them on the ground. “Do you mind?!” Harry exclaimed, when the Dark Lord did nothing to cover himself.

“Actually I do not,” came the indifferent reply. “You, on the other hand –” the Dark Lord trailed off, when he righted his clothes and looked at Harry, who was in the similar state of undress: his robe tangled around his collarbone and only underpants beneath it.

Harry went red in the face, quickly shuffling with his own clothes to cover badly healed scratches and old bruises covering his thin form.

“Whatever those are from?” with mild curiosity inquired Voldemort.

“None of your business,” Harry mumbled darkly. “Dress yourself already, will you?” he added, wincing and not too gently dragging the Dark Lord’s robe closer to the man, not minding if it caught on any twig or sharp stone on the way.

“As you wish, Harry,” Voldemort murmured suavely with almost seductive smirk on his face.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry asked nervously, peering into Voldemort’s red eyes intensively.

The Dark Lord gave out a graceful shrug, then finally stood up and put his robe on in one fluid motion not unlike that of a snake.

“Absolutely nothing, boy. You may rest assured I do not take to fancy skinny scrawny bony teenagers with bird nests on their heads and dirt under their fingernails,” Voldemort responded with strange undertone to his voice.

Harry scrambled to his feet and, eyeing him warily, moved away from the oddly behaving Dark Lord as quickly as he could without being seen as scared as he really was.

“So, what now?” Harry asked after a long moment of pregnant silence between them.

Voldemort cocked his head to the side in contemplation, looking at Harry with strange glint in his eyes.

“I may not possibly know,” he supplied in low tone of voice, still pondering over some thing bothering him. “It seems some power forced us both to come here, wherever this might be, for some reason beyond my understanding.”

“Are you so sure this is not afterlife or something?” Harry inquired. “Because for me it certainly looks like it –”

“Quiet,” the Dark Lord suddenly ordered in the undertone, grabbing Harry by the shoulder for good measure and squeezing it with force.

“Wha –?” Harry’s question was cut off by pale cold bony hand on his mouth.

‘ _Do not speak up, boy,_ ’ Harry looked at the Dark Lord with wide eyes, hearing the familiar ghostly whispering in his head. ‘ _Someone… No, something approaches. It has unkind intentions towards one of us. I do not know, towards whom exactly, but I am not ready to risk it. I will shield us both, if you only keep silent and allow me to bleed you,_ ’ before Harry could protest, the Dark Lord grabbed his hand in his own and made a slicing motion with his sharp index fingernail across Harry’s palm, bringing out a thick drop of blood out. Harry tried to take back his own appendage, but his attempt was futile: Voldemort took Harry’s hand to his own mouth, then licked and lapped at the wound. It immediately closed, but not before Voldemort acquired a drop of dark-red liquid from small scratch and swallowed it with seeming difficulty, making a face at the taste.

Harry somehow managed to get a glimpse of his sensations: Harry’s blood burned the Dark Lord’s tongue, its sweet coppery taste almost unnoticed behind the discomfort of the burn.

Voldemort shuddered and put a hand around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry felt the other’s magic surrounding him, no them both in a warm wool-like blanket of a shield.

‘ _That was – ugh –_ ’ Harry never managed to finish the thought.

‘ _Silence. You’re not trained to converse mentally, you might be overheard by the approaching **thing** ,_’ Voldemort’s silky voice inside Harry’s mind sounded a bit off.

Harry looked at his face, which was quickly draining of all color, red eyes darkening, then going glassy and bleary. Voldemort staggered and squeezed his hand around Harry’s shoulders tighter in an attempt to stay upright.

‘ _What’s with you?_ ’ Harry hoped he would be heard, preferably, by the Dark Lord and not by the strange **_thing_** coming to them, and he thought that shorter phrases would be less likely to be overheard by it.

‘ _Your blood,_ ’ Voldemort responded in clipped tone. ‘ _I’ll manage,_ ’ he added. ‘ _Just be quiet._ ’

Harry, for once, did as he was told.

About quarter of an hour went by in silence.

At last Voldemort sighed heavily and released his grip on Harry’s shoulders, staggering away in a rush. He managed to go only couple of steps away though, before he was caught in coughing fit, which instantly ended with Voldemort bending, clutching his stomach with a groan and a snarl and throwing up rather violently, letting out small moans of distress in the process. This, too, ended quickly. The Dark Lord straightened his back with a grimace on his face being the only sign of his discomfort, and calmly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at Harry, who was staring at him in return.

‘ _Has **it** left?_ ’ Harry asked tentatively.

“Indeed it has,” Voldemort responded aloud.

“What was it?”

“To put it in your words, ‘I have no idea’,” with a hint of a smirk answered Voldemort.

“What was it with the blood and all?” Harry made a circling gesture to indicate what he meant by ‘all’: the shield, strange spell based on his blood and later sickness of the Dark Lord.

“Are you interrogating me?” raising his nose in arrogance inquired Voldemort with one brow raised in surprise.

“Should I?” Harry returned the gesture.

“I had had no knowledge of what was coming and whom it was going to target and I had no wish to risk it being me, so I did what I thought was best to hide both me and by proxy – you. Your blood, however poisoning it may be for me in particular, nevertheless has great potency due to the sacrifice your unwise woman of a mother made when died in your stead.” Harry bristled, but waited till the end of the explanation. “In addition the strongest shield magic there is is the one built on blood. It is as simple as that. I simply perused both these aspects to our mutual aim – shielding us in all ways possible from the imminent danger.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply to the scathing comment about his mother, when suddenly realized, that Voldemort was still slightly pale and wavering on his feet, the almost unnoticeable shudder shaking his slender body at odd moments.

“Are you – unwell – I mean sick, or something?” Harry asked instead unsure and made a step towards Voldemort. He was not certain if he was going to help him stand on his feet or rather kick him in the ribs, when the man fell. All of this was very confusing.

“I may have underestimated the danger,” with pursed lips admitted Voldemort. “And had spent too much energy supporting that shield, it seems,” he added in an undertone, but Harry still heard him. He took another careful step – and caught Voldemort, who went down with a faint sigh, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Harry tried to support the man’s weight, but despite his slimness Voldemort was rather heavy, so Harry and Voldemort both went to the ground, with the Dark Lord’s head ending in Harry’s lap somehow.

“Just what I needed!” Harry sighed in exasperation, but allowed the Dark Lord to rest for a bit, before starting to prod hollow cheek with his finger, attempting to wake him.

Good fifteen minutes later Voldemort let out a loud sigh and opened his eyes. Harry was just about ready to start slapping his cheeks to wake him.

“You know, I think I feel that **_thing_** from earlier now, too,” Harry confessed. He was indeed feeling something: slight hint of terror, still distant, but coming closer with any moment, collecting like a cloud of horror around him, steadily overwhelming him, bit by tiny bit, and threatening to engulf him any second.

“My hand,” came a ghostly whisper.

“What?”

“Take my hand,” said Voldemort lowly. “The blood.”

“Will it burn, too?” While asking this, Harry was already taking thin pale appendage to his mouth, though, he was not fully confident what exactly to do with it.

“Bite it,” ordered the Dark Lord.

Harry squinted his eyes shut – partly in terror, which was growing more and more intense now, and partly in disgust at what he was going to do. This was blood magic, after all, and this was his mortal enemy, at least, had been up until this moment. It seemed, they were on one side in this, at least for now.

“Harry,” that did it: Harry bit on the soft silky skin of Voldemort’s palm with force in attempt to draw blood. The Dark Lord hissed and shuddered. Harry felt warm sweet liquid on his lips and tongue.

It didn’t burn him, he felt almost nothing, aside from warm wetness and sweet coppery taste, not unusual to him: after all he often bit his own lip in pain or nervousness hard enough to split the delicate skin, getting his own blood on his tongue.

“Don’t waste it, boy,” the Dark Lord hissed harshly and Harry realized, that he’d dragged out enough liquid from the small wound to get drunk on it, his mouth full with the thick blood of the Dark Lord Voldemort, thin wet lines going down from the corners of his mouth to his chin and neck. He felt disgust swiftly clouding his mind to the point where he was ready to just spit it all out and wash away all the traces of taste, and possibly go throw up too for good measure. With strange detachment Harry understood that he was steadily working himself up to hysteria.

Right at this moment he felt the other mind right there in his own head, murmuring to him insensible calming nonsense. The feeling was familiar, just hours before the same mental voice brought him to the Department of Mysteries with false promises and threats.

That shook Harry enough for him to return to his senses and remember what he was doing and why. He opened his eyes and looked at the man in his lap, his bloodied hand still in tight grip of Harry’s. Voldemort’s blood in Harry’s mouth still felt awful and totally alien, this was still not right, but he understood that they both didn’t have a choice.

‘ _Swallow,_ ’ came mental urge. Harry obliged, gulping heavily. The other man’s blood felt hot, going down his throat, Harry almost gagged on it, but managed to keep it down with difficulty. ‘ _Feel it in you,_ ’ Voldemort continued to issue instructions in tight and dry mental voice. ‘ _Let it fill you. It’s just power. Let it energize your magic. Raise your wand. Circle us with it. Put your magic to work. **See** the shield,_ ’ Voldemort caught Harry’s gaze with his own and held it. ‘ _It’s impenetrable. A wall. Of stone. Metal. Fire. Ice,_ ’ Voldemort drawled mentally, hypnotizing Harry, adding his own still weak magic and what’s remained of his power to the shield, his mind guiding Harry.

Somehow Harry managed to envision the spell enough for it to work without any words and almost no wand movements. At least, he hoped it worked, because that terror still lingered at the edge of his senses, him and Voldemort being just out of reach of the **_thing_** , but still too close for comfort.

‘ _Is it gone?_ ’ Harry thought, not sure he was reaching the Dark Lord’s mind and not certain if he wanted to reach him mentally.

‘ _Hold the shield up,_ ’ Voldemort commanded, his mental voice harsh. ‘ _It’s still here,_ ’ He shuddered and finally closed his eyes, some of their combined concentration wavering.

The wave of terror washed over Harry, but it suddenly became clear to him, that most of that terror was coming from close proximity – from the Dark Lord, and not from the invisible unknown enemy at the distance.

Harry looked at the pale face, snake features twisted in some indecipherable emotion, red eyes shut and brow creased – either in concentration, or in distress, Harry could not be certain.

‘ _What’s wrong?_ ’ Now Harry made deliberate effort to be heard.

‘ _It’s familiar. I don’t like it,_ ’ Voldemort answered curtly.

‘ _Do you know what is it?_ ’ Harry asked surprised.

‘ _Might,_ ’ Voldemort supplied even more tightly.

‘ _So –?_ ’

‘ _Not now. The shield,_ ’ the Dark Lord reminded him.

Harry returned his attention to the crumbling shield.

* * *

He didn’t know how long the **_thing_** remained nearby before it finally left, having lost track of time after half-hour passed in complete silence, not even a stray thought from the Dark Lord in Harry’s head breaking it. The Dark Lord’s terror slowly dissipated, as did Harry’s sense of danger, which had previously told him that the **_thing_** was still near, still threatening one of them.

Harry was surprised to hear the familiar snarl of “Potter!” out loud and realized that he must have fallen half-asleep at some point. He startled at the shout and widened his eyes, seeing very human, though very pale face of Tom Marvolo Riddle right in front of him, awoken nose to nose with the man.

“Wh-what happened?!” Harry exclaimed, recoiling from the Dark Lord’s face.

“You felt asleep on me, that’s what happened!” snapped Riddle harshly. “Get away from me!” he barked out, pushing at Harry’s chest with his hands. Or rather only one hand, as the second was still held by Harry tightly and it was still covered in dry blood. Then Riddle noticed that something was not right and squinted his eyes at his absolutely human palm and fingers.

“Potter!” the Dark Lord barked. “What did you do?!”

Harry shook his head in negative and finally released the other’s hand, as if scalded.

“I have no idea,” came his favorite reply. “You do know that you have a nose now, right?”

Harry realized his mistake only, when familiar yew wand was brought to his face with force, the other familiarity being the uttered curse: “Crucio!”

Though, instead of feeling lots of pain, Harry felt nice warmness enclose him, energizing his drained magical core, while the Dark Lord’s hand twitched and his handsome features twisted, low moan managing to escape his lips, before he collected himself, only the gnawed lip showing that he was in pain. He dropped his wand, ending the curse, quickly, but not before Harry had seen him struggle with it, unable to move his slightly trembling hand, its muscles contracted with pain.

“How did you do it?” asked Riddle after a while, his voice still rough.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Harry replied surprised. “Your spell backfired without my help,” he shrugged. “Better not try again though,” he added, seeing as the Dark Lord’s wand hand twitched to rise again, while his face lost all of its color completely and his eyes became glassy and bleary again.

Riddle’s nostrils flared in anger, but he followed the advice, to Harry’s surprise.

“So what exactly had transpired while I was, er, asleep?” with fake indifference asked the Dark Lord, carefully sidestepping the issue of him being unconscious from magical drain.

“Don’t know. I was out cold, too,” Harry admitted with ease. “Seems, like the **_thing_** had left, though. I don’t feel it anymore. And neither do you, I gather,” Harry noted as he still sensed Voldemort’s mind at the edge of his own.

Riddle sent him a nasty glare in response, his mind retracting, but the smallest part of it remaining still, just in case.

Harry smirked and shrugged nonchalantly.

“I suggest we call for truce,” Riddle said abruptly, interrupting similar thought dancing on the tip of Harry’s tongue. “That is, until we leave here. We certainly do not need to argue among ourselves with this dangerous **_thing_** out for our blood.”

“You are right,” Harry agreed easily. “And that reminds me: you’ve mentioned earlier that you recognized it. What is it then?”

“You do not want to know,” with a nasty smirk and a raised brow replied Voldemort.

“Maybe I don’t want, but I need to,” calmly returned Harry. “So –?”

“It was Death himself, I think,” provided Voldemort.

Harry gaped.

“You ‘think’?” he inquired.

“I am almost certain,” the Dark Lord corrected himself. “As certain, as one could be in such matters, at the least.”

“You mean you’ve met him before,” Harry said affirmatively. “Which one of us does he target, then?”

“That should be me. Though, I do not think the possibility of you being his target can be ignored either,” Riddle admitted. “In this case our truce is more than useful for both of us.”

Harry snorted.

“You just don’t want to admit that without me you don’t have enough strength over him,” he snickered.

Riddle gave Harry a snide look.

“Do not overestimate your usefulness, boy!”

“Maybe it is you, who overestimates his own power, huh?” Harry smirked crookedly. “Or you may underestimate the danger,” he added thoughtfully. “Why should any one of us be the target of this guy?”

“Your aversion to certain death may very well be the reason,” offered Voldemort, grimacing. “After all, I tried for how many years to put you out of your misery, five?”

“If you count this one,” Harry made a grimace of his own. “And don’t count the first, when I was a baby. But what about you? Didn’t you say you’ve managed to gain immortality? Couldn’t it be the reason for him to target you?”

“It might,” Voldemort admitted quietly, lowering his gaze. “Though I wonder,” he added in a whisper under his nose pensively.

“What are you saying?” Harry leaned in closer.

“Do not come closer!” Riddle suddenly gritted, rose spots appearing on his cheeks.

“What?” Harry asked incredulously. “What happened with hugs and all?” he added mockingly, gesturing to Riddle’s hand, which was still covered in flakes of dried blood.

Riddle bared his teeth in a strained parody of a smile.

“I do not take fancy in sharing private space with others,” he issued through still gritted teeth. “You especially. That was necessary for the shield to work. Now we do not need a shield.”

Harry raised an inquiring brow.

“Is the Dark Lord Voldemort touchy?” he snorted derisively.

Voldemort just glared at him, red eyes burning furiously.

“Okay-okay, I won’t laugh,” Harry put his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “There’s no need to burn a hole in me with your glare!”

Riddle rolled his eyes at him.

“You said yourself that we need to work together,” Harry reminded. “So, what do we do now? If this is realm of Death, can we even leave here at all?”

“As we are alive I believe that yes, we can. We just need to find the way back to the entrance, so to speak. To the Arc.”

“That sounds too simple,” Harry noted. “What about the local boss? Won’t he interfere?”

“He certainly would,” Voldemort nodded. “And this can provide a minor complication at the most. If we peruse the shield you are already familiar with, we should be able to leave without so much as a scratch on us, I recon.”

“You mean, stop every other ten steps drink each others’ blood and hug under the invisible shield? I don’t want to become a vampire,” Harry grimaced. “Don’t think you’d be glad either, if my blood is like poison for you.”

“I suppose, next time it shall not be. That first time it was given reluctantly, and also you now have my own blood in your system and my magic in your core… hmm,” Voldemort again acquired a pensive look. “I think I have missed something vital here,” he thought out aloud. “I’ve already felt as if you have something of mine even before we shared blood and magic for the first time here,” he appraised Harry with a strange look. “And this mental connection is too out of the ordinary, as well.”

“What of it?” Harry asked suspiciously. “I thought it is the product of you trying to kill me in my crib and all that jazz. No?”

“I believe you surviving Avada should not be the reason here. Certainly, the fact itself is unusual, as no other wizard is known to survive the Killing Curse. But I do not think these two are related.”

“ _What of Parseltongue?_ ” Harry offered in said language.

The Dark Lord froze.

Harry couldn’t help it – he snorted, then snickered and finally started to laugh in honest, when the expression of the Dark Lord still remained the same of incredulity for the next several minutes.

“ _You speak the language of snakes?_ ” hissed Riddle slowly at last.

“ _Yesss,_ ” Harry responded in kind. “ _That’s how I found out about the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets._ ”

Voldemort’s eyes glinted dangerously.

“ _You found out about it, didn’t you?_ ” The Dark Lord took a slow threatening step towards Harry. “ _Did you like my pet?_ ” the suave smile, which appeared on his lips, promised lots of pain and misery.

“Didn’t you say something about the truce?” Harry asked, fidgeting nervously under the death glare of the Dark Lord. “You need me as much as I need you – at least,” he added.

“What did you do to her?!” roared Voldemort enraged.

Next instant he was at Harry’s throat, foregoing his tricky wand in favour of simple bodily strangling.

Harry only coughed in response, Voldemort’s hands cutting out his air supply.

“You killed her, didn’t you?!” thrashing Harry by the throat, growled Voldemort. “Remember, I can see in your mind! I know you did it!”

“It stabbed me!” at last managed to grit Harry. “I almost died there!”

“Have you been to Salazar’s library, too?!” snarled Voldemort.

“No!” Harry wheezed. “Only Chamber!”

“You’re lying!” seethed Voldemort, still thrashing Harry by the throat.

“Let… go...” Harry let out in weak voice. “Can’t... breathe...”

“I know you are lying! I feel it!”

“Look...” Harry managed to raise a had to Voldemort’s eyes, showing him thin scratches on the back of it, forming the sentence ‘I must not tell lies’.

Voldemort abruptly dropped him, but grabbed the offered hand instead, scrutinising it with squinted eyes.

“That’s looks like the Blood Quill,” he observed, his demeanour changing in a heartbeat to more calm and collected one. “I did not know they still use it in this times,” he murmured in pensive, almost sympathetic tone, the knowing look in his eyes telling that at some point in life he, too, had the same experience.

Harry raised a brow in disbelief, tentatively rubbing his sore throat with his free hand.

“Had the model student Tom Riddle,” Harry started in scratchy voice and coughed, then continued, “been subjected to detentions?”

“No,” not elaborating on the matter, replied Voldemort in clipped tone.

“It looks like you know how it’s been made,” Harry gestured to his hand, still remaining in Riddle’s under his attentive gaze. “And I am truly sorry for your, erm, pet.” He coughed again. “Truly. She was something, for sure,” he admitted. “If she didn’t try to kill me, I might have spared her.”

Riddle finally let go of Harry’s hand, instead again going for his throat. Though Harry was surprised when instead of strangling him, Voldemort simply stroke his throat with cool fingers, the feeling of his magic leaking through them tingling the sore skin and soothing it.

“I, too, am sorry,” Riddle abruptly offered. “If your mother didn’t try to stop me, I might have spared her,” he said in a low tone. “She was a remarkable witch, Harry. Even for the Mudblood.”

“Pff!” Harry scoffed. “You just had to go and ruin perfectly good remorse speech!” He pouted.

Riddle gave out a crooked smirk.

“That’s my forte, isn’t it?” He snorted mildly. “Let us move on and move out of here already, before you dragged the true remorse speech from me. I don’t think I survive that one,” he confessed.

Harry gave a hoarse chuckle at that, not sure what the Dark Lord meant by the statement.

“Let us,” he agreed, his voice still raspy. “But where to?” Harry looked this way and that, evaluating the possible paths.

There were none, really, they could have gone any way, even further up the hill and beyond it, as beside the hill there was simply nothing: only something akin to the solid ground under their feet and something similar to skies above them, neither of them of any certain colour or texture, just ‘below’ and ‘above’, or floor and ceiling, if you’d like.

“I am not certain,” admitted Voldemort, “but we can try going back there,” he pointed in the rough direction of their inbound flight. “That should not, of course, mean that the exit is at the same place as entrance. If it is indeed the realm of Death, we’re playing by the alien rules here and do not even know them completely. The exit may very well happen to be inside this hill, for all I know,” he offered, gliding his hand in pointing gesture towards the mentioned hill. “Or up there,” the pointing hand went skywards.

Harry grimaced and, grabbing Voldemort’s hand in his, dragged him around the foot of the hill and further beyond it, ignoring the angry yanking of his hand.


	3. ~II~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said that I'd do a chapter each Friday. I apologise that I couldn't make it yesterday - a bit hectic day, ending in a bit hazy evening xD.  
> You know what? I'm still planning to update this story on Fridays! And there are about three more chapters of the story writtten, so rest assured you'll have something to return to for several more weeks to come :p  
> I still have to catch typos and polish text, so cannot post extra chapter for you right now, sorry!
> 
> * * *

“I don’t know a thing about realms and Death, but I want to go there. Usually my intuition works well. Come,” Harry urged, still not minding angry hisses and insults in low undertone coming from the Dark Lord. “You said we don’t know the rules. Well, the king of this realm doesn’t know me! I survived for five years with you out for my blood, I might as well try surviving here,” muttering under his breath Harry continued walking and dragging Voldemort by the hand with him. “And don’t you start again about touches. It is like shield – necessary evil. So deal with it!” Harry raised his voice a bit, when felt Voldemort’s wand poking his ribs from behind. “Do you want your curse to backfire again?” Harry reminded, when the wand still wasn’t removed.

“Potter, stop!” Voldemort barked in response, roughly yanking Harry’s hand with enough force to actually hold him in place for several seconds.

Harry turned to him with a question on his lips, but froze with no sound escaping him.

Right behind the Dark Lord, about a foot from them a black cloud gathered at the approximate level of their knees.

“What is that?” Harry finally managed to find his voice, though it was trembling a bit.

Strangely he hasn’t sensed that same terrorizing presence of Death, as he’d sensed it earlier, but that didn’t mean anything: Harry hadn’t sensed it that first time, when they just landed, maybe this time it was similar, the Death simply hiding better from them.

“That’s my means of transportation,” Voldemort snorted seeing Harry’s horror-stricken face. “Much faster then yours, I suppose. And less tiresome,” his smile became more crooked. “You are welcome to share it with me,” with a flourish gestured Voldemort in invitation.

“Tra-transportation?” Harry still was in shock.

“I invented it myself. It is much more reliable and faster then brooms,” the Dark Lord proudly explained, then with a sigh stepped up onto the cloud and dragged Harry by the hand to him. “It may look like a cloud, but is rather solid to the touch, believe me,” Harry was brashly yanked by his hand upwards onto the so-called cloud.

Stumbling Harry tried the substance under his feet: it really did felt solid, like a patch of ground, though the absence of any sort of borders and half-transparent view made him feel a bit sick, when thinking of flying higher up on this ‘vehicle’.

“Are you afraid?” mocked Voldemort. “It is perfectly safe, or, well, as safe as it could be with me beside you on this cloud and high up in the air,” his eyes glinted with malice and mirth, evil smile never leaving his lips.

“I am not scared!” Harry proclaimed, nose high in the air. “Can you, erm, maybe add rails or something?” he pleaded in next instant. “With your obsession with immortality it’s looks rather risky to use it as vehicle like this.”

“I like it,” Riddle shrugged. “You can go by foot underneath me, of course, but it would be counterproductive, I recon,” he offered.

“You need me more than I – you,” Harry noted. “I am going with you on this cloud, and that’s not up to debate. Move it, will you!”

Riddle snickered quietly but obliged.

The cloud started ascending and gaining speed abruptly, making Harry yelp in badly concealed fright. Then their vehicle continued moving steadily high above the ground roughly in the same direction Harry had pointed earlier.

They flew for some time in silence, Harry trying not to cringe and wince too openly when the cloud dived or gained more altitude. Although now and then he wished it was Ron or Hermione beside him, so it would not be so uncomfortable and humiliating for him to cling to the man’s hand, which, surprisingly was met calmly and without the usual hissed insults and demands not to touch him from Voldemort.

At last the Dark Lord broke the silence:

“We didn’t finish.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry inquired.

“Before we started to argue –”

“Again,” interfered Harry.

“As I said, we didn’t finish the discussion about our connection. It truly bothers me: at some moments I feel like I am looking in the mirror, magic-wise, I mean. As if you had already had something – my blood or magic, possibly – in you, prior to the first encounter with our host here today. That is strange and wrong, and it –”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you for the first time, you know. It bothers you, and blah-blah-blah. Can you even start to imagine how it must bother me – that I have some part of you inside me?! That’s just gross,” Harry made a face.

“What did you just say?” Voldemort interrupted his antics, an odd expression on his face.

“What I said?” Harry repeated stupidly.

“That you have some part of me inside you. What made you say that?”

“Don’t know,” Harry shrugged.

At that moment their cloud again tried to dive almost to the very ground. Harry yelped and grabbed Voldemort by his elbow to steady himself, digging his fingernails in harshly, which emitted a low hiss from Voldemort. Just when the man started to pry Harry’s stone-like fingers from himself, the cloud abruptly turned its nose up and started ascending, making the boy yelp again. Harry slid almost completely from their airborne vehicle, only the vice grip of Dark Lord’s hand suspending him in the air.

A brief pensive look crossed Voldemort’s features before he suddenly released Harry’s hand and taking out his wand weaved a complicated pattern with it, murmuring something under his nose. All this took hardly couple of seconds, then the cloud dove lower again and almost full two minutes after he started falling Harry was back on the cloud beside Voldemort, his again steady and vice grip on Harry’s shoulder not allowing the boy to repeat his flight to certain death.

Harry was shaking and gulping big chunks of air in attempt to pacify his scare. At last he pointed an accusing finger at Voldemort and rasped in harsh voice:

“You’ve said you need me for the shield!”

“So I did,” with a strange expression on his features agreed Voldemort.

“Then what was it just now?!” Harry exclaimed, quickly regaining his lost voice.

“An experiment of sorts,” without any trace of remorse admitted Voldemort.

“I am not a lab mouse!” Harry shrieked indignantly.

“If I say I am sorry that would be a lie,” Voldemort shrugged. “It is most unhelpful to express remorse without really feeling it, when in such a situation, as transpired just now, and especially when one could have been doing something more useful, like charming the vehicle high up in the air, which went out of control.”

“What?” Harry blinked, trying to decode this overloaded camouflaged way of apology.

“I apologise,” Riddle said simply. “But that was the most certain and most quick way to confirm my suspicions about you. And the information I was searching for could have become either helpful or dangerous for the current situation we are in. I had no choice, if you’d like.”

“I don’t!” Harry glared at the Dark Lord. “But that’s beyond the point. What information did you gain through this sadistic experiment?”

“I suspected something and my suspicions were confirmed.”

“Merlin, can you be a little bit more specific?! It was me, who hanged several feet up in the air with only the said air for support and then fell almost to the fucking ground, while you experimented! And it was me, about whom you had your damn suspicions! So will you spill it already?!”

“I don’t think so, no. You are still shaken after the near-death experience.”

Harry laughed at that.

“You know what? I leave through these near-death experiences since I was ten. I think I’ll manage without your, oh, so kind concern, thank you. Now will you talk? Or should I repeat the acrobatics so you’d be totally sure before you can tell at least a fucking word about it to me?!”

“Potter, you are hysterical,” Voldemort calmly observed.

“And what does it matter if I have?!”

“We are about ten feet above the solid ground only with the small half-transparent cloud supporting us, and it is just enough in size to hold us both. Beside, this is already a realm of Death. I am not going to become local resident through the fit of hysteria from some stupid teenager,” snapped Voldemort, red eyes glinting dangerously. “Either you calm down, or you can go step off this cloud, I don’t really care, I have several other soul-pieces to hold me alive!” Voldemort cut himself off abruptly, realising, what he just said, and went white in the face.

Harry went pale, too, when his brain processed what he just heard.

“What did you say?” Harry whispered harshly, all energy leaving him, and plopped down where he stood, his knees giving in. “’Your several soul-pieces’? Did I hear right?”

Voldemort sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, then also sat down, waving his wand to command the cloud to go slower and lower to the ground – just in case.

“Yes, that is correct. I have divided my soul into pieces and put them in special vessels in order to have something to anchor me to the face of the earth in case I met the untimely demise. You happened accidentally.”

Is it even possible?” Harry asked in awe. “I mean, that is something even the magic should not allow for: to split a person’s soul to gain immortality. That looks like ultimate cheating to me. And I don’t really want to start on how another person can hold an alien piece of soul inside him.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How one splits a soul, anyway? There should be some ritual to make this happen, right? So how was it made accidentally? Me, as you’ve put it.”

Voldemort shrugged uncomfortably.

“All that really matters is a kill. Taking another’s life already dents a killer’s soul. The rest is just technicalities, not really important, it seems. I ended the life of your mother and my curse backfired, which led to a piece of me landing in you.”

“This shouldn’t be so simple,” Harry said sadly. “Why something so evil and ugly is so simple that even a toddler can do it?”

Voldemort winced.

“I don’t have a say in this, Harry. I did that evil and ugly thing you’re talking about.”

“Have you ever thought, that maybe, just maybe, you don’t deserve to live long and happy life in the place of those you killed?” Harry asked quietly, looking into Voldemort’s blood-red eyes intently.

“I may have,” the Dark Lord admitted. “At one time, long ago. But I forgot what I felt then.”

“So now it’s just survival for the sake of it?” Harry inquired in a soft tone. “Neither can live while the other survives –”

“What is it?” Voldemort asked.

“The blasted prophecy. Now I finally get it, I think. Looks like it was not about going for each other’s throats.” Harry laughed humourlessly. “While you survived for the sake of surviving, I lived miserable and shitty live at my mother’s relatives, who despised me and took me for a house-elf. I’d say that wasn’t proper living, either. And now we are finally talking. Here. In the realm of Death.” He shook his head. “That’s sad.”

“What do you think of it?” asked Voldemort tentatively.

“Of what?”

“Horcrux. I mean, soul-piece.”

“That’s how it’s called, huh? I better not think, I suppose. You probably agree with me on this one. Imagine someone else’s soul in you, what would you do then?”

“Go mad,” muttered Riddle. “Though even without an alien soul in me I still managed to go crazy for a while,” he admitted bitterly. “That was most unwise of me to do,” he grimaced.

Harry patted him on the shoulder.

“Now we just need to escape this place and then make a truce for real,” he offered. “To argue with your own soul-piece is really the very most unwise thing to do,” he snorted. “See, couple of hours more with you and I’d start to speak in overloaded multicoloured sentences, too.”

“It is not that simple,” muttered Voldemort. “Besides, there are other reasons for me to oppose your so-called ‘Light’ side.”

“Like what? Killing off all Mudbloods? Rule over the Ministry? Over the whole Britain with muggles too?”

“Something like it,” Voldemort agreed. “No, seriously, what do you honestly think of it all?”

“Honestly? I think, that when we return, I’m going to throw a fit or two, then go yell at Dumbldore, because, no way he had not known this all from the start, but he still hadn’t told me anything! And then I’ll go to the Astronomy tower and jump from it. So the whole Wizarding world would finally stop relying on a teenager to save them and start doing something themselves!”

“Don’t tempt me,” Voldemort warned him.

“Huh?”

“I might just forget you here, you know. You won’t be doing anything brash and stupid when there are no Astronomy towers to jump from or old but powerful fools to yell at. And no Wizarding world to scare into acting.” Voldemort let out a mirthless chuckle and smiled crookedly. “Also quite possibly placing a living being in a realm of Death while not killing them would prove to be the ultimate cheating, as you’ve put it, of Death, too, thus resulting in you never dying while still staying in here. Like stasis or coma.”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry glared in response. “I am not your treasure to put in a safe box, I am a living being, as you remembered just now!”

“Ah, I see you are at last returning to your normal obnoxious self,” drawled Voldemort with satisfaction. “Good. We can finally move on.”

He waved his wand to lift the cloud under them higher and make it gain the speed it lost.

“How do you know where to direct it?” asked Harry.

“I don’t, I had tied it to yourself, so it’s really you who commands our way,” Voldemort replied.

“What?! Wait, and if I fell, would the cloud go to the ground as well?” Harry exclaimed.

“Of course not. It takes only your sense of direction, the rest is mine to order,” Voldemort smirked. “Do you think I’d let unstable teenager to command my life? Especially this particular teenager, who happens to be my sworn enemy?”

“I doubt I am that one now,” Harry muttered under his nose, turning away from the Dark Lord in the direction they were flying.

* * *

“Looks like the end of our trip to me,” Harry noticed louder, pointing ahead of them to the strange construction, reminding of a wall, but made of half-transparent glass. “Seems like it encircles this whole area,” Harry added, nodding at the wall. “Like a fence or something.”

Voldemort hummed pensively, scrutinizing the glass construction.

“I do not think it is real glass, rather some similar looking magical substance – or even being. I am afraid the latter is more correct,” nodding to himself assessed Voldemort.

“What? Being? You mean it is alive?!” Harry gaped.

“Yes, I believe it is. Don’t you feel this? Like a heartbeat, but more subtle, sensed by your own magic. In this case we may safely assume it is magical, as well. I certainly sense alien magic, which does not belong to either of us, nor – to the local ruler. It may fall under his control, but its magic is different and it is certainly separated from him.”

Harry scrunched his nose, but tried to follow the advice and sense the creature with his own magic.

At first he thought the method didn’t work, but then he started to really feel something.

Strange half-familiar sensation, warm and cool at the same time, with clear heartbeat, beating in tune with his own, lacing through the flow of magic, just at arm’s length from him – that must be Voldemort, Harry realised.

Straining his magical sensations, Harry then caught something else: the unsteady rhythm of alien magical beat, not dissimilar to the one near him, but not very much alike either and out of tune pulse of someone’s heart, making his own miss a beat and blood freeze in veins, for some indecipherable reason. It was not clear horror, as with the Death, when he had been coming closer to them, but more subtle – and thus even more scary – feeling of something huge and overwhelming, like a wave covering you during the storm and moving further inside the land to flood the streets of your hometown and break fences and drown cars.

Harry shuddered and unconsciously shuffled closer to the Dark Lord in seek of protection and human warmth, when he thought he saw ice wall constrict a bit around them.

“What did you sense?” tensely inquired Voldemort in harsh low voice. “It seems your senses are much more accurate and precise, then mine,” he added in explanation, wincing.

“It is cold and threatening,” Harry confessed. “Scary. Like a big inbound wave in the storm. And it reminds me of earlier, though it’s a bit different from **_him_** as it is alive.”

The Dark Lord put his hand unconsciously on Harry’s shoulder, when the boy moved even closer to him.

“What do your intuition say now?” with a hint of mockery inquired Voldemort. “If my eyes do not deceive me, this thing is moving in on us.”

“You’ve noticed it, too, then,” muttered Harry. “I don’t really know what to do. My intuition tells me to run from this: it’s too similar to jaws ready to swallow us whole to my liking. Though, if it really is all around us, then there are nowhere to run.”

“We still have the option of going up and cross it by air,” the Dark Lord suggested. “It is not very high.”

“Who said that it doesn’t have something invisible up there?” Harry contradicted.

“True,” the Dark Lord agreed. “We should simply try then,” and before Harry could protest, he was already weaving his wand to move the cloud higher and across the glass wall at fast speed.

“Whai–!” Harry’s exclamation was cut short when the cloud collapsed with the invisible elongation of the wall with such force, that both of them fell to the ground.

Their fall was slowed down at the last moment by Voldemort’s and Harry’s wands. What surprised Harry, though, was the fact the Dark Lord seemed to forego his own security for the sake of Harry’s, and if not for Harry’s quick reflexes, he would have broken the leg or two upon colliding with the ground.

As it was, Harry got a cushioning charm up at the last second for them both, so the landing was not so harsh. They still ended up as a tangled heap of legs and arms and robes ripped to shreds on the ground, though.

“Get off me, you, clumsy bastard!” Harry exclaimed at the same moment as Voldemort snarled something along the same lines, but certainly more insulting.

This time the Dark Lord got underneath Harry during their fall, and now he was pushing at Harry, trying to throw the boy off of him with a grimace of pain on his gradually whitening face.

“Are you injured?” Harry asked carefully, disentangling his limbs from Voldemort’s.

“My back,” said the Dark Lord curtly, pursing his lips.

“Are you suicidal?!” Harry snapped. “Why had you been cushioning me, instead of slowing your own fall?! I could manage myself, thank you very much!”

“Are you worried over my well-being?” Voldemort drawled, smirking with satisfaction and his red eyes glinting with badly covered delight. “My, thank you, Harry!” he murmured silkily, hand shooting upwards to stroke the cheek of the boy still lying half on top of him.

“Argh! Pervert! We are both in this together, of course, I’d be worried over my partner, oh, hell, over my comrade!” When Harry mentioned partnership, the Dark Lord’s gaze got even more innuendo in it, corners of his lips quirking up in an amused smirk.

“Thank you for including me in your small circle of, oh, comrades, Harry,” the Dark Lord purred. Harry huffed and shook his head.

“What’s with you and sexual innuendos? One would think you get off on being in mortal danger,” Harry remarked.

“You are correct,” Voldemort droned. “Danger draws me in, but I am unable to die properly, but this adds even more spice to the danger… it is a witch circle, really.”

“So you are immortal adrenalin junkie?” Harry snorted. “One would think you became immortal to avoid danger.”

“I want not to die without notice and unrecognised by the world,” the Dark Lord corrected. “And I want to live as long a life as I can to do all I planned, am planning or will plan. I love knowledge, it is power, and it is addicting in itself, just for the sake of learning new things, too. The more time I have to live the more knowledge I can obtain.”

“Psycho,” Harry muttered with a hint of a smile and finally stood up, righting his robe (or rather, what remained of it) and holding out a hand to the Dark Lord, who was still remaining on the ground. “You know, when you was all snake-like it was less uncomfortable,” Harry confessed, looking at the almost naked man in front of him. “Are you going to stand up or do you like it here?” Harry inquired with a mockingly raised brow.

Voldemort winced, but grabbed the offered hand and abruptly stood up – to bend on himself immediately in obvious pain, hissing and spitting insults at no one in particular.

Harry whistled and winced sympathetically, carefully examining the man’s back: it already started to attain the colour of fresh bruise, sprinkled with brightly red scratches and small wounds here and there. Voldemort remained doubled over for another couple of minutes, then slowly straightened up, grimacing.

“It looks bad,” Harry commented, tentatively touching one of the most prominent patches of bruised skin on Voldemort’s upper back.

“It feels even worse,” the Dark Lord confessed quietly. “And I think I have a rib or two broken, as well.”

Harry patted the Dark Lord’s shoulder in awkward sympathy, wincing and nodding.

“Unfortunately I don’t know any healing spells,” he supplied apologetically. “You have to do it yourself, sorry.”

“Potter, don’t you know that healing magic almost doesn’t work when done to oneself? It can heal minor scratches, but not such serious injuries as these ones,” the Dark Lord grimaced. “It seems I have to do without, then.”

“Oh, you can teach me!” Harry offered readily. “It had worked before, remember?”

“That was far less complicated magic, than healing,” Voldemort shook his head. “I’ll manage. Better leave this place quicker and not waste precious time on useless things like teaching stupid teenager healing spells.”

Harry scrunched his nose insulted.

“You can still support yourself on my shoulder, you know,” he said with discomfort evident in his voice. “If it helps, I mean,” he added unsure.

“Don’t strain yourself on my behalf,” Voldemort snorted, his expression darkening. “We deduced already, that I need you more, than you need me in here. You can try to find the exit on your own and leave me here to rot till the end of times, thus freeing the world from my persona forever.”

“What’s got into you all of a sudden?” Harry looked up at the Dark Lord’s grim face. “Why all the depression?”

“What makes you think, it is not a remorse after our discussion earlier?” Voldemort inquired.

“You don’t do remorse,” Harry snorted. “Even your apologies are lame. And you won’t know a sorry, even if it jumps in your face.”

He suddenly turned on a heel and went in the opposite form their original direction, back towards the hill.

“You can try your favourite cloudy thing or walk with me by foot,” Harry offered over the shoulder. “I am not staying and looking how this thing swallows us.”

He didn’t look back at Voldemort, who followed him after a moment of contemplation silently, staggering and tripping over flat ground now and then, but stubbornly refused to ask for help from Harry.


	4. ~III~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several pieces of news for you, guys! The better one is that am currently at the sixth chapter, so you can expect at least two more before the flow of my writing would slow down or be interfered with by different circumstances. The other piece of news, the worse one, is that a) I am suddenly loaded with work, a good pile of it! which will burden me till (hopefully) last third of September at the least; and b) my birthday is coming up in three days, and it seems I have too many different companies of friends, which I better not mix, so next couple of weekends would be equally shared between them instead of writing. That may mean intereference with my writing, although, I can't promise I won't be writing at all, it just may be going slower.  
> The best piece of news, I suppose, is that we are finally coming closer to the actual 'pairing' stuff... Though not exactly in this chapter :p I think you'll understand at the end of it ;-)  
> So enjoy! Many hugs to those who are leaving kudos, subscribing and reviewing! I'll really try not to fail you all!
> 
> * * *

“The offer of shoulder still stands, you know,” Harry said after half-hour of slow silent walking. “You still cushioned my fall, I owe you at least for this.”

“You do not ‘owe’ me anything,” Voldemort refused, “That’s me who is indebted up to my eyeballs to you, Harry.”

Harry huffed in disbelief.

“Up to your eyeballs, you say! Whatever for? Because I am your soul-piece?”

“Because you caught me just now, when we fell,” Voldemort corrected. “Though you being my Horcrux adds to the debt either.”

“How many of them did you make?” Harry asked out of the blue. “Who else is your life-debtor?”

“I should hope no one aside from you. Human Horcrux is not common, to say the least. I believe, our case is the special one in more than one sense.”

“You’re again avoiding the question,” Harry noticed. “How many soul-pieces of you are there? Or are you afraid to tell me? I am one of them, so why are you scared?”

“I. Am. Not.” Voldemort let out through gritted teeth.

“No? For me it certainly looks like you are,” Harry remarked snidely.

“Seven,” spat the Dark Lord. “I was planning to create six, plus the one soul-piece still left in me. Satisfied?!”

Harry shook his head in negative. All this time he was not turning to Voldemort, opting to carefully watch where they were going instead.

“I am not, but that’s out of the question. I still find it gross to kill and to cut your own soul up in pieces for the sake of a doubtful prospect of living forever. Why seven, then?”

“It’s magic of the number,” muttered Voldemort reluctantly.

“Which was spoiled by accidental creation of eighth piece?” Harry snickered. “Looks like I am your party-pooper even without my own consent, huh?” He at last spared a brief glance over the shoulder at sulking Voldemort. The view of pouting Dark Lord made Harry giggle even more merrily.

“What’s so funny?!” the Dark Lord growled, but Harry laughed even harder at that.

“I can’t help it, sorry,” he managed to say through the tears of mirth, “You look like a five-year-old with this cute pout of yours!”

“So my pout is cute?” despite his resentment Voldemort’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

“So are you going now to turn my every word into innuendo?” Harry asked exasperated. “What’s with you and sexual allusions?!”

“I think that’s the byproduct of me returning to my human form, actually,” Voldemort said. “I still do not understand how and why that had happened, by the way,” he squinted his eyes in suspicion, looking at Harry.

“Don’t look at me like that, I have nothing to do with it!” Harry threw his arms up in surrender. “Maybe that’s just this place’ influence.”

“I do not think it to be true, though,” Voldemort remarked in thoughtful tone. “From my perspective, it was exactly your influence, which somehow returned me my human body.”

“How so? I didn’t do a thing, not that I remember at least,” Harry raised a brow.

“We shared blood and magic, and not only one time, but twice.”

“We exchanged blood and magic,” Harry corrected him. “By your logic I should have become snake-like in your stead.”

“That is different. I acquired my snake-form through that ritual a year ago.”

“Don’t remind me,” Harry interrupted with a groan.

“It was Nagini’s blood and venom in that potion, which resulted in my transformation. Now it was your blood –”

“– and venom?” Harry snickered.

“Something like that,” Voldemort smiled crookedly. “This started the transformation back to my human form –”

“What about the second time with shield? I am no scholar, but even I understand that it was quite the magic there.”

“I am still not sure, what the second shielding brought on. It is possible, that you transformed as well, but it is not as obvious, as my change. You are right, it might have been not too complicated, but still it had been rather potent and, indeed, uncommon piece of magical casting.”

“I hope I won’t grow tits or something,” Harry remarked, only half-amused.

The smirk on the Dark Lord’s features was strained, as well.

“I rather you will not, as it will add extra curves to your slender form and spoil the view,” he commented.

Harry raised a brow in surprise:

“Was it your way of complimenting, by any chance?”

“It could have been,” Voldemort murmured with an meaningful glint in his eyes.

Harry just shook his head in exasperation.

Their walk was silent for a while. Then Harry sighed and slowed his steps to walk along Voldemort.

“If you are going to leave this stupid place any time in this century you might as well grab my shoulder now, before you fall,” without warning Harry took Voldemort’s hand and put it on the said shoulder, the second before the man tripped over nothing again. “It is harder to lift unconscious people, then to support those who can walk on their own,” Harry grumbled, feeling the Dark Lord’s reluctance. Then he placed a hand around the man’s waist for better hold, the Dark Lord recoiling from his touch and shuddering from pain in his bruised back. “I’ll try not to squeeze to much,” Harry promised. “But this way is easier for us both.”

“Fine,” Voldemort managed to grumble through clenched teeth.

“I am still not sure where we should go, though,” Harry admitted. “If we are to go with my gut feeling, then we are lost. I don’t want to go anywhere anymore. Just lay down and sleep. That’s strange. Just seconds ago I was not so sleepy –” Harry trailed off and yawned.

“Potter!” Voldemort barked. “Don’t fall asleep on me, boy!” he snapped, feeling Harry’s form to start sliding to the ground suddenly. Hissing and swearing under his nose the Dark Lord took out his wand and simply cast a watering charm on Harry. This proved successful, as Harry woke with a yelp and a start.

“What are you doing?!”

“Waking you. Seems, like our host acquired a new tactic: to lull us to sleep and be done with us. I’ve felt this myself right before you started to manhandle me. I suppose I was the first target of the spell and you managed to share its influence between us. Fortunately for us both, your interference helped me to throw this spell off.” Voldemort sighed. “We need new tactic, as well. Neither my cloud, nor your ‘gut feeling’ helped us to escape, so we need to search for something else. Any thoughts?”

Harry shook his head in negative.

“I don’t even know where to start searching.”

“What do we have that he doesn’t?” Voldemort prompted.

“Don’t have any idea,” Harry shrugged. “We are human?”

“He is a supernatural being, right. But our humanity may very well be our weakness, not our strength over him. What else?”

“We managed to shield from him, when we’d combined our powers,” Harry thought out loud. “Maybe try the same?”

“No. Firstly, it’s too dangerous: you are under-trained at best and I am in no condition myself to cast the shield charm. And secondly, I am afraid it will not work anymore, as after two times he more than likely had found the counter.”

“Those times we did it in turns. What if we do it simultaneously? Will it work?” Harry suggested.

Voldemort cringed.

“As I’ve said, I am far from healthy, and magic-wise, too, am rather drained. Even with your powers we will not do much. Simple blood-sharing and combining magical flows won’t work here.”

“If you say this is simple, I don’t know what’s more tricky,” Harry furrowed.

Voldemort looked at him with odd expression on his face, brows almost in one line from concentration, lips pursed in contemplation and manic glint in his eyes.

“What?” Harry asked tentatively.

Instead of verbal answer, though, he felt sudden burst of nervousness coming through the mental link.

“There is something,” Voldemort muttered slowly, “But I am afraid, you would not like it. Although quite possibly it can finally help us escape this place, not just protect from the Death spells during our senseless wandering in fruitless search of non-existing exit.”

“Spill it,” Harry said sarcastically. “I don’t think I am able to dislike anything more than me being your soul-piece and you killing to gain immortality,” he grimaced.

“I beg to differ,” in the same sarcastic tone returned Voldemort. “Firstly, tell me, Harry, how do you find the idea of two males in an affair?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Harry spluttered indignantly. “Is it the quiz ‘ten things to embarrass Harry Potter with’?!”

“Just answer, Harry,” the Dark Lord urged him, his expression closed off and only waves of his nervousness and mild interest coming through the mental link.

“If you mean ‘sexual affair’ –?” Harry started.

“More of a ‘romantic affair’, but yes, it may be sexual, too,” Voldemort confirmed. “So –?”

“W-well,” dragging his suddenly wet palms along his thighs to dry them, mumbled Harry, “I’ve never really thought about it, them, oh, hell! So yes, I don’t know.”

“Have you met anyone who has the partner of the same sex, then?” Voldemort continued his questioning.

“Eh, no? Or yes? I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Maybe?” he added weakly.

“Very well then,” Voldemort sighed, then Harry abruptly felt his mind pushing at the almost non-existent boundary between them, rather violently. At first Harry attempted to block the Dark Lord, but he was no match to the man’s mental power, so his efforts ended very quickly with his mental walls crushing under pressure of Voldemort’s mind.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the splitting headache their confrontation caused and wavered on his feet. He felt detached surprise at sensing Voldemort’s hand supporting him and not letting him fall to the ground, instead, gently guiding him to sit.

At first, the sense of alien mind inside his own made Harry almost sick, but after some time he managed to get used to it, at least enough to not try pushing at it reflexively in attempt to throw it out. Then finally Voldemort got down to business: Harry felt himself being dragged into something akin to the memories in the Pensive or a film.

The images he was shown portrayed various same-sex couples – male and female – either holding hands, or hugging, one pair of men were kissing passionately, and finally Harry got a glimpse at a snogging session, though that one was cut off abruptly at the moment, when Harry caught a sight of the face of one of them – very much like one of young Tom Riddle, whom Harry remembered from his second year and the incident in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry thought the consent of the younger version of Riddle in the last scene was very dubious, too much distress written over his handsome features for Harry’s comfort. After this last one the flood of images stopped and Voldemort’s mind retracted, leaving furiously blushing and panting Harry, who was clutching at his aching head and cursing the Dark Lord loudly.

“Was it another one of your sadistic experiments?!” Harry snapped enraged.

“You are correct. It was the easiest way for you to quickly solve the question of your sexuality,” Voldemort shrugged.

“And this is related to our problem at hand how exactly?!” Harry asked still aggravated. “Just so you know I have a blinding headache right now, so probably won’t be able to do a frigging thing magic-wise in the nearest hour at the least!”

“I apologize,” Voldemort lowered his gaze, “I was not expecting such violent opposition from your mind and overrated my mental strength. I can ease your ache a bit, if you’d like?” This time the Dark Lord looked genuinely sorry for a change.

Harry waved a hand in dismissal.

“Forget it! You’d better explain how this is related to our plan of escape.”

“In a minute. I have another question out of that ‘ten embarrassing’ ones you’ve mentioned.”

“I am as ready as I can be with you and your sudden experiments,” Harry snorted. “Shoot!”

“Are you still a virgin, Harry?”

Harry’s jaw fell open at such blatant and direct inquiry.

“I – what? I beg your pardon?” he blurted in absolute shock and confusion.

“Are. You. A virgin. Harry?” Voldemort repeated almost in separate syllables. His expression was unreadable and Harry even stopped sensing his emotions through mental link. Of course, that might have something to do with the headache and events that had brought it on.

Harry nodded his agreement fervently, than shook his head in negative, similarly energetically, unable to say a word and only opening and closing his mouth silently as a fish, thrown to a shore.

“Should I take this as a yes?” the Dark Lord raised an amused brow.

‘ _Oh, joy! Now he is showing his emotions!_ ’ thought Harry sarcastically.

‘ _I simply deduced that they might confuse you more, so attempted to block myself out,_ ’ came calm mental comment.

Harry bristled.

“You know, when you ask such questions out of the blue, anyone would like to at least understand what you think of them yourself,” Harry noted. “Showing emotions tend to do just that – show your true feelings to the opponent.”

“I will try to not block my thoughts next time,” with a mild smile agreed Voldemort.

“Oh, so you have more embarrassing questions?!”

“Indeed, I do. Have you ever touched yourself intimately, Harry?”

“What’s with my name and embarrassing questions?! Why are you calling me ‘Harry’ all of a sudden, when all you say pertains only to my sexuality?!” Harry exclaimed offended.

“Are you suggesting I should call you by your first name all the time? Or on the opposite – ask you personal questions and call you by a surname, which only distances you and me further?” Voldemort inquired with raised brow.

“I don’t suggest anything,” Harry huffed. “Let’s return to business, shall we?” he motioned with his hand between them and around. “Would you tell me about that plan of yours already, huh? Or have you other ‘ten questions’ up your sleeve?”

“Actually, I do, but they are not urgent,” Voldemort smirked. “I’ll save them for later, I think.”

“So – ? ”

“Unfortunately, I still have to ask you one last thing, before we can discuss our plan of escape,” Voldemort warned. “How do you find myself?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Harry gaped.

“The most vital one, I recon. So, tell me, Harry, do you like what you see now, at the least?” There was a hint of something in Voldemort’s tone, suggesting that he was seriously interested in the answer, and not only in relation to their ‘plan of escape’, whatever that one might be.

* * *

Harry made a conscious attempt to scrutinize the man in front of him, trying very hard not to remember, that it was the Dark Lord Voldemort he was looking at. He evaluated slender graceful form; handsome, slightly feminine features, sporting high, prominent cheekbones with a hint of a dimple and rose spots of embarrassment from close scrutiny, plump bright-red lips; intriguing red eyes, which were now shining brightly with some undefined emotion; dark chestnut locks, slightly ruffled due to the hectic events they were experiencing. And Harry suddenly realized, that, yes, he did like what he saw, at least, when looking with detachment of a stranger. Though he was not certain, if it was the admiration of a nice view, or, indeed, a romantic interest.

“Harry?” Voldemort asked in a careful tone.

“If the question is if I like the view,” Harry started slowly, “Then, yes, you look nice, not like the ugly snake in a human form, which was, frankly speaking, a horrible sight,” He stopped in thought, then continued even slower than before in very careful tone. “If you are asking if I am attracted to what I see in a sexual way, the answer would be the same as before: I don’t know. Three minutes is too small a time to explore one’s sexuality and decide on the preferences. And your assaulting me with pornographic images directly into my mind didn’t help either. Now I am officially off the thing.”

Voldemort pursed his lips in annoyance: “Seems, I’ve made a mistake.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed in a heavy tone.

“Then we are back to square one,” Voldemort let out a sigh of dissatisfaction.

“I still don’t get how this is related to our efforts in escaping here,” Harry commented. “So maybe we should finally move on to the plan?”

Voldemort made a grimace of distress: “My plan is to shake the foundations of the realm of Death by performing an act, usually reserved for the time a couple wants to create a life.”

“Eh?” Harry blinked in confusion.

“To put it simple: we need to have sex. Adding some of magical power in the process. This should, in my understanding, break the spells holding us here and let us escape,” with a straight face explained Voldemort.

“Sorry, what?!” Harry looked at him with wide eyes, his jaw opening and hands flailing. “You suggest for me to make love with you?! Have you lost it completely?!”

“No, I believe, I have not. Our situation is unusual in more aspects then one: we are mortal enemies; you hold a piece of my soul in you; I was resurrected with the help of your blood once, and today again regained some of myself thanks to your blood and magic. All of this should have an extra influence and add to the simplicity of the act, beside our powerful magic put into play.”

Harry stared at him in shock for a long time, before finally having found the words: “You see this all as some kind of experiment, do you not? As a clinical act, like a ritual, with a spicy bonus of sexual interaction in the process? No emotions, nothing?”

“You’re correct. Almost. You’re still my Horcrux.”

“And that is all there is for you in it?”

“Yes.”

Harry shook his head: “I will not agree to this. Never. Nor for the sake of escaping the realm of Death. And neither for saving the world, or my friends, or whom and what else you might remind me of. You don’t really understand what you are suggesting. And the absence of emotions in you is only an extra insult to this sacred ‘act’. I am not doing it with you of all people. And that’s final.”

Having said that, Harry turned his back on the Dark Lord and started walking slowly away.

His silent walk continued for another half-hour. He didn’t look back to check if the Dark Lord followed him, or remained on the spot where they had been arguing earlier.

After second half of the hour has passed as well, Harry finally lost the battle with himself and turned around.

It seemed, the Dark Lord attempted to stay back at first, but then decided against it: he was lying on his side at some distance from Harry, having made maybe half the way towards him before he collapsed either from the influence of their opponent’s power, or from simple exhaustion and injuries.

Harry stood in contemplation for another ten minutes, intensely looking at the lying man, searching for a hint of deceit or falseness to his pose, after which he made the first careful step towards the lying form, then two more steps, and at last, when he thought that he’d head a faint groan from the fallen Dark Lord, Harry broke into sprint.

  


When Harry reached Voldemort, he was panting heavily – partly from tiredness after his run and partly from the heaviness he sensed in the air, presumably, thanks to the Reaper’s powerful magical influence.

The Dark Lord laid in an unmoving heap on the ground, only his chest slowly rising and falling in a sign, that he was alive. His eyes were squinted shut, brow creased and mouth twitching – obviously, the man was conscious, but had no energy to even keep his eyes open.

Harry approached him carefully and kneeled down beside his head.

“Um, Voldemort? Tom, do you hear me?” Harry inquired lowly and hold a hand above the man’s forehead uncertainly, not sure if he can touch him safely, without receiving the curse or at least an insult in response. “Are you okay?”

“I find this inquiry unclear,” came the usual tricky remark. “I am certainly not well, if that was your question. If you asked permission to touch me – you are allowed,” the Dark Lord nodded regally, without opening his eyes.

Harry snorted and put a hand on Voldemort’s forehead, moving away a stray wet lock.

“You are running a fever,” he observed.

“Magical drain,” Voldemort explained. “Not very bothersome. Why did you return?”

“I am not really ready to wander this empty space with only you as a company till the end of times. We need to think of a way to leave, preferably, of the one, not involving sexual interactions of any kind. I agree to admit, that you know more than me about magic and such. Can you think of something else?”

“Even the plan I spoke of earlier is not a certain way of escape. It may or may not work, but at least there is a tiny possibility. To my knowledge there are no other options which may even remotely be as good as this plan.”

“I thought so,” Harry sighed with resignation. “Then how do we proceed? I don’t really have too much experience with relationships, and certainly not with gay love,” Harry admitted, his cheeks going red with embarrassment.

“I have little expertise in this area myself,” Voldemort suddenly confessed. “Though, it seems I am still more knowledgeable one,” he smirked and finally looked Harry in the eye. “I wonder,” he suddenly muttered pensively, “Tell me, Harry, why do you so stubbornly bring up ‘love’?”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

“I was once told that my power is ‘love’, though I doubt, it matters here. Mostly, I try to think in less technical term, then ‘sex’, I suppose. It’s scary, really,” Harry mumbled.

“Do I scare you?” Voldemort asked tentatively.

“If I say ‘yes’, will it ruin the moment?” Harry returned.

Voldemort furrowed his brow in contemplation for a couple of seconds, then his face brightened.

“Currently I am lying on my back and you look down at me. Do you find this frightening, too?”

“You’re not a serious threat to me here, when our magic is acting wonky on each other,” Harry trailed off in thought.

“And I, the Dark Lord Voldemort, now have the energy of a five year old at most,” Voldemort supplied helpfully.

“Right,” Harry gulped, waves of nervousness from Voldemort making his own frantic heartbeat to speed up more.

“Potter, this should not necessarily be me doing all the manly parts,” Voldemort suddenly offered quietly.

Harry blinked in shock.

“Wh-What do you mean?” he staggered.

“To put it in simpler terms, I can be ‘the girl’ in this,” Voldemort replied with patience. “You can screw me, so to speak,” he smirked crookedly. “Should I bring up other euphemisms?” His last phrase was laced with no small amount of sarcasm.

Furiously blushing Harry squinted his eyes, seemingly now even more scared, than he’d been before this ‘kind offer’ from the Dark Lord. The latter, on the contrary, paled drastically, when his own words registered and he understood, what exactly he’d offered just now. Harry, who was still not opening his eyes, didn’t see it, though he felt that the Dark Lord was horrified at the prospect. Maybe, that was even worse, than just seeing the most feared Dark wizard of all times pale from such insignificant thing.

Harry let out a shuddering breath, then clenched his hands together to stop them from trembling.

“So how should I do this?” he asked in small voice. “I am still the inexperienced one of us,” he reminded.

Voldemort let out a shaky breath of his own, then shifted to lay more comfortably and moved his legs slightly apart in a hint of an invitation, motioning for Harry to take the position between the dark Lord’s parted and raised knees, his robe already half-raised up to his thighs.

“Do you require the full-blown lecture course, or should I guide you only through the most vital parts, which differ from making ‘love’ to a girl?” The Dark Lord inquired in a mildly mocking tone, emphasizing his attitude towards Harry’s inclination to ‘love’ him.

Harry bristled, though he was still blushing violently: “I am not a five year old, I know the basics!”

“Then, by all means, be my guest!” Voldemort made another inviting gesture towards himself. “Though I must remind you to bring the touching part to only the required minimum, as it gives me discomfort still.”

Harry raised a brow: “How do you suggest me to do it, then? Poke you with a twig?” he let out a nervous snort.

“Potter, don’t be ridiculous!” Voldemort snapped. “Just do not kiss or touch me anymore than necessary!”

“Fine, fine,” Harry grumbled, but didn’t get to action, instead opting to freeze and ogle the half-naked Dark Lord lying in front of him with an absent look on his face. Harry’s own gaze, too, was distant, his hands continuing to clench into fists and unclench nervously, fingers of opened palms trembling slightly.

“Potter!” Voldemort barked, then his tone changed to milder one. “Harry, do you have any experience whatsoever?”

“N-no,” Harry croaked hoarsely and spared a brief embarrassed glance to the Dark Lord’s serious face. “Maybe it’d be better for you to – ?”

“Harry,” Voldemort called softly, cutting him off. “Look at me. You can do it. In fact, I would like you to do it. I wouldn’t have allowed anyone but you. That’s is rather logical, if you think on it thoroughly: we are two opposites, and yet we are not very different.”

“We even look alike,” Harry continued for him in the tone, similar to that of a person, who had seen a ghost.

“Yes, we are, Harry. Our wands have similar cores. You and I share a soul. We had similar past. There is the prophecy about us.”

“What are you trying to achieve, spoil the moment even more?” Harry made a grimace. “Right at this moment I am searching for something which can attract me to you, but all you suggest are the things which draw you further away from me: you are a killer, who put an end to my parents’ lives and planted a piece of your black soul in me. Although our past seem to be similar, we turned out very different, morality-wise. And this ugly piece of junk you call prophecy is exactly this – an ugly piece of junk, invented by a crazy witch in a drunken haze. It means nothing to me. I don’t want to be the Chosen One, because they have chosen me for a task, which makes me want to throw up, it is so inhuman.”

“Harry. I am not forcing you into this. I maybe the one with a black and ugly soul, as you are saying, but I don’t force angsty teenagers to have sex with me. Either you are choosing it yourself, or we can wander here some time more and think of something else.”

“Didn’t you say that there are nothing to think of beside this dubious plan, which may even not work for us?”

“Still, I am no rapist. Especially, if you cannot find it in you to have sex with the person of the same gender.”

Harry shook his head: “That’s not it.”

“Then, what is?”

“We are moving in circles: you try to turn this all into the ritual to escape this place, while I am seriously looking for anything to like about you to make this all to work. You’ve said it may work, if we do something of the totally opposite nature in comparison. This place is all about death. You suggested yourself to demonstrate how the life is created. ‘Sex’ is not the right answer.”

“Harry, we cannot possibly fall in love with each other at a seconds’ notice.”

“True. But still, ‘making love’ is better, than ‘having sex’, when you want to show the gist of life to a Reaper.”

“I don’t really see your point,” Voldemort admitted. “But, please, do continue with what you were doing before. We have plenty of time.”

“I doubt it,” Harry muttered under his breath: he saw what the lying Dark Lord could not – the wall at the horizon looked closer, Voldemort looked more ill than before now, and Harry, too, felt the heavy oppression of this place’s magic bringing his back lower and lower with each passing second.

“I’d like to suggest something,” Harry offered with unease.

Voldemort looked at him questioningly, not saying anything in reply.

“If you don’t like something, you’d say it. I’ll try my best, but – “

“That’s a deal,” Voldemort agreed softly.

“And if I am doing something totally stupid, you’d better not laugh!”

The Dark Lord nodded with a solemn expression.

Harry threw a brief wary glance at the still far wall, then turned towards Voldemort.


	5. ~IV~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _First and foremost, I want to again to say that I am sorry to disappoint those of you, my dear readers, who’ve anticipated different (and more standard) arrangement in terms of pairing._** I totally understand that, of course, as someone kink very well be someone other’s squeak, so to speak. I myself hold no hard feelings for either variation of this pairing, be it Voldemort/Harry or vice versa, as in my opinion both can be interesting to write and to read about. But as I’ve come across quite many stories with Harry being the bootom, and, on the other side, with rather few of him being the dominant in relationship or at least in bed, I decided on the different approach this time. Of course, I am too to blame for this ‘disbalance’, as most of my other stories feature the usual Voldemort/Harry, bar one (at this moment of time, at least), and that one is being written in Russian with only the PWP-prequel posted for now. That’s why for this particular story, ‘On the Other Side’, I decided to take this particular approach, with Harry being the ‘man’, instead of the Dark Lord, at least in terms of their bedding arrangements and Mpreg, as, I am sure, you’ve already guessing the whole mess with the ‘ritual in the realm of Death’ is leading to.
> 
> Secondly, this might seem ridiculous, but I honestly had forgotten to upload those chapters I had promised you all back in August! I was under the impression, they are already up, seriously! For this I am sorry, too. I got a bit overwhelmed with RL here, only now coming back to some kind of normality in terms of net, fandom-life and such. Though, that won’t last, unfortunately: I still have work, and my current project is due at the end of October, and then I will have to leave for a short family holiday abroad (and I am going without my laptop, mind you, which means I won’t be writing there). But I certainly can promise you this: I am not going to abandon either of my stories and I am always looking forward to your feedback, be it in the form of lengthy coments or just simple likes (favs, kudos)!
> 
> As always they bring a bit of sunshine in my life and a smile upon my face, so huge thank you for every word and each ♥!
> 
> Lastly, I am going to upload not one, but two chapters today in order to make up for my absentmindness and as a thank you for your lovely feedback!
> 
> Pardon me for the lengthy rambling in A/N and enjoy the story with me (as I definitely am!)!
> 
> * * *

Moving very slowly, Harry shuffled to the place between the Dark Lord’s thighs.

With a nervous smile on his lips he tentatively put his hands on the shins of the man in front of him, who shuddered at the touch, but made a visible effort to stay put, only gnawed lip demonstrating his displeasure.

Harry glided his hands along the legs of Voldemort, until he caught on the hem of half-raised robe and froze, not daring to lift it higher.

“That’s okay,” Harry muttered softly, when he felt a miniscule tremble shake Voldemort’s body. His hands not moving an inch from their place at Voldemort’s legs, Harry carefully lowered his upper body to come face to face with the Dark Lord. The man was grimacing slightly, chewing on his own lip in nervous gesture. “I will not do anything you do not want me to do,” Harry promised almost into this twitching mouth, then suddenly turned, so their cheeks were touching slightly, and rubbed against the Dark Lord’s face, sensing, that Voldemort’s cheek heated under his own. “You’ve said no kissing, or – ?” he clarified.

Instead of verbal answer Voldemort sighed quietly and crashed his lips with Harry’s in a rough kiss. Harry felt the man’s tongue, violently roaming in his mouth, exploring it, trying to conquer Harry’s own. He shuddered uncontrollably, before collecting himself and remembering, that he should be doing something, too.

While they were kissing Harry glided his hands higher, under the Dark Lord’s robe, unnoticed to them both. Now he was feeling the hot skin of Voldemort’s upper thighs with ghost hints of touches, dragging loud sighs and more shudders from the man, who was continuing to ravish his mouth between low sobs.

Several minutes passed with them kissing, Harry’s hands lying flat on Voldemort’s hips after the first few tentative touches.

‘ _Children are not made with kissing,_ ’ Voldemort whispered in Harry’s mind with a hint of mirth to his mental tone.

‘ _No laughing, remember,_ ’ Harry reminded him. Then removed his hands from under Voldemort’s robe and got to unbuttoning his own clothes, locking his intense gaze with the Dark Lord’s glassy one.

Voldemort brought his hands up and softly took Harry’s palms in his big hands, stopping him in his actions.

“ _Allow me,_ ” he hissed in snake-language, smirking suavely, when seeing Harry shudder at the sounds, the boy’s gaze becoming clouded with dawning desire. Working very slowly, the Dark Lord undid all the small buttons at the upper part of Harry’s robe, stopping at his waist, Voldemort’s eyes never releasing Harry’s.

Harry brought his hands to Voldemort’s collar and froze, uncertain, without touching the man’s clothes, with a question in his eyes.

“ _Yess,_ ” Voldemort let out sibilantly, “ _You may undress me, Harry._ ”

Harry startled at hearing his name in Parseltongue, the snake-language somehow making it sound both sexual and eerie at the same time. He put his hands down on Voldemort’s chest with a sense of finality and started to undress the man, at the same time, as he was undressed by him, both of their actions reflected as if in a mirror: Harry working on one button of the Dark Lord’s robe, and Voldemort doing the clasp on his, then their hands simultaneously drawing the edges of clothes to the sides, unveiling the naked skin underneath, and going down to the next button.

When at last both of their robes were undone, their bare chests and abdomens almost touching, but not quite, Harry took the initiative back to himself and pinned the Dark Lord to the ground, kissing him hard, hands roaming his chest in gliding motions, touching lightly, slightly scraping with his nails across cool skin, feeling the muscles of Voldemort’s chest and abdomen twitching and tightening under his careful touch. Harry shuddered, when felt Voldmeort’s hands go up his back to his shoulders and clutching them, bringing Harry closer.

‘ _Okay?_ ’ Harry tried to decipher the mixed sensations and emotions, he was getting through their mental link from Voldemort.

“ _Yessss –_ ” Voldemort hissed into his mouth with a feeling. “ _Continue –_ ”

Harry’s hands found the Dark Lord’s nipples, he bended and shifted his knee to open up Voldemort’s legs more, but he stopped all he was doing, sensing a sudden change in the man’s mood.

‘ _Should I stop?_ ’

‘ _No._ ’

‘ _Then what’s wrong?_ ’

‘ _Nothing._ ’

Harry sighed quietly and looked into clouded red eyes for confirmation. He found none, the face in front of him closing off completely, so he carefully untangled his limbs and removed himself from Voldemort’s unmoving body, sitting up on his knees between the partner’s parted legs, not touching him anywhere.

“What are you doing?” Voldemort snapped irritated.

“Trying to be a gentleman,” with a crooked smirk responded Harry. “I feel you in my mind. You don’t really like it any better, than I do. We should stop this farce now, before the Death comes laughing his head off at our efforts.”

“No, I think we need to continue,” retorted Voldemort.

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I feel your emotions! I know you hate this. I am not a rapist, either. And besides, I hardly know what I am doing, and you are not helping!” he pointed accusing finger at the Dark Lord.

“Could it be that you are simply scared?” Voldemort raised a suggesting brow and smirked mockingly.

“I am not scared!” Harry exclaimed indignantly.

“Are you sure?” the Dark Lord drawled silkily.

Next second Harry was on Tom, kissing him with a growl, biting his lips furiously and moving his hands haphazardly over Tom’s naked upper torso, stroking, squeezing and scratching skin violently, his nails catching on Tom’s nipples again, but this time Harry didn’t stop, instead pinching one of them and twisting it, dragging a low moan out of Tom’s snarling mouth, locked with his own tightly, their tongues intertwined, Harry’s other hand shooting immediately upwards, him grabbing Tom by his hair and tilting his head roughly to get to his neck with his lips and teeth. Tom’s original tension lessened gradually, and Harry finally found himself positioned comfortably between his legs, one of his knees slightly upper then the other, rubbing against half-erect member, still humbly covered with the corner of the Dark Lord’s robe, the most part of which was already in tightly tangled knot, squeezed between their lower bodies, pressed together squarely.

Tom’s hands were all over Harry, too, gliding up and down, his nails digging painfully into smooth skin, his pinches and squeezes leaving bruises on their way across Harry’s torso. He was moaning wantonly into Harry’s mouth one moment, and the next – his teeth were leaving marks on the boy’s neck, collarbone and shoulders, mirroring Harry’s actions.

Harry found himself grinding shamelessly into his partner’s pelvis with loud groans, Tom swearing hoarsely at this and trying to press into him in response and recoil from the offending and uncomfortable touch at the same time with small keening sounds of distress interfering his moans of pleasure.

They fell apart after several long minutes, panting and, in the case of Voldemort, cursing like a sailor in several languages, including Parseltongue. Harry managed to add couple of words of his own choice in hoarse hiss, dragging a hand through his wet hair, which were even more tangled than usual, and trying to righten his undone clothes. Voldemort was reclining back on his elbows in half-sitting position, squinting his eyes lazily at Harry, who was still remaining seated on his knees between his parted legs.

“What was it?” Harry asked with suspicion.

“Whatever do you mean?” with an innocent look asked Voldemort, smiling with a hint of mockery.

“That was – intense – ?” replied Harry, unsure.

“Hmm,” Voldemort responded non-committally.

“Not like me, really,” Harry continued perceptively. Than his eyes narrowed at Voldemort. “Was it your doing?”

“Why do you say so?”

Harry huffed in irritation.

“You are something! I am certain that was your doing, don’t try to dodge! That’s cheating!”

“I am an expert at cheating Death!” Voldemort responded haughty. “That’s like my ultimate hobby!”

Harry snorted despite his own irritation, then let out a short laugh, eyes glinting with mirth. Voldemort echoed him, though with less joy in his hoarse laugh, his voice softer and weaker, than Harry’s.

Harry cut himself off abruptly, his expression changed to worried one in a split second: “Was it really necessary? Spending energy on me, I mean.”

“You might be right,” the Dark Lord admitted quietly.

“Of course, I am right!” Harry snorted and shook his head. “Doubting Thomas!” he barked a laugh, when understood, whom exactly he called that.

Voldemort bared his teeth at the accidental joke, then pointed at their positions: “Shall we continue?”

Harry looked with caution at the Dark Lord, who reclined further back on his bended elbows, raising his chin up to give access to his mouth, reddened from their kisses earlier, and opened his legs wider in obvious invitation, although his face acquired a worn out edge to it, his brow creasing slightly. Half-lidded red eyes watched attentively, as Harry smoothed his own robe and straightened his back, towering a little over the Dark Lord, who was almost fully spread out in front of him now, having been gradually lowering his upper body during the last several seconds.

“Are we still going to do it?” Harry furrowed his brow. “Looks like you’re out of energy, no?”

The Dark Lord’s face darkened: “We’ve been over this already,” he grumbled. “If we want to return to the world of the living – ”

“You look like a ghost yourself, and I suppose, I am no better. Why don’t we take a rest – ?”

“Potter, do you see that wall over there? It is closing on us. Couple of hours more – and we won’t have any ground to fuck on, neither the air to do it properly!” snapped Voldemort. “Or do you think I haven’t noticed?”

“W-well – ” Harry mumbled, at a loss for words.

“So either you fuck me now, or I’ll take you here, and believe me, you won’t like it!” growled Voldemort. “First time is no joke, when you take it into your ass, especially, if you’re not very into men!”

Harry blushed.

Voldemort suddenly fell on his back completely, closing his eyes tiredly with a moan.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked nervously, when saw the Dark Lord to throw his robe off and take his own member into his clenched fist, its knuckles whitening in tension, his other hand moving lower and between his parted thighs.

“Preparing myself,” the Dark Lord gritted, rose spots blossoming on his hollowed cheeks, a wet dark lock falling into his bleary darkened eyes.

Harry paled at this and tried to avert his eyes from this carnal sight, but found no strength to do it, gaze glued to huge member, not fully fit into Voldemort’s fist, slowly hardening and becoming even bigger and thicker in his hand. The Dark Lord licked his drying lips, low hiss emitting from them and ending with a louder moan.

Harry gulped.

Although he had been arguing over his own sexuality and preferences just recently, the view enthralled him and made his own member throb painfully and stand proudly, his half-opened robe, which was hardly covering his crotch, not hiding anything from view.

“I tried to have it your way,” Voldemort gritted, “but – ” he trailed off with a meaningful glance at Harry, who was frozen on the spot, his gaze transfixed on the man in front of him, his neck and face steadily obtaining a dark-red colour of fresh beet-root. Unbeknownst to him, his one hand had gone to his own erection, he was roughly and clumsily fisting himself, while watching the salacious scene in front of him to unfold: the Dark Lord managed to twist his body so, that he was stretching and scissoring his own arse and pumping up his member at the same time, looking at Harry from under his fringe with half-lidded eyes, which were already clouded and glassy from desire. Voldemort sported bright-rose blush, and one small dimple was seen on his left cheek. He bit on his lower lip and was now chewing on it, trying to hold in some of the most lecherous and loud of his groans.

Meanwhile Harry managed to work himself up almost to completion, his stone-hard erection already dragging from his mouth keen needy sounds, which went unnoticed by him. He made a small unsteady step towards Voldemort: the latter was panting heavily, the glistening crown of sweat appearing on his forehead and trailing down his temples and cheeks to the corners of his grimacing mouth.

“ _May I?_ ” Harry didn’t know that he said in Parseltongue, the snake-language, as usual, sounding like English to him, but Voldemort was too familiar with sibilantly sounding and whispering softness to recognise it for what it was, his eyes shooting to Harry’s and locking with them in intense staring contest, while the movements of both of his hands gained speed and became uneven, his breath turning to ragged and more sweat appearing on his brow and above his lips, his mouth screwing up in a strange emotion, the end of which Harry managed to catch through their mental link.

Harry shifted closer to Voldemort and put a gentle hand on top of the Dark Lord’s on his member, forgoing his own throbbing one for now.

‘ _Still don’t know what I’m doing –_ ’ Harry mumbled inside their minds unsure, but opposite to his confession, his movements were steady. He trailed along Voldemort’s other hand with the tips of his fingers down to the man’s thighs and looked up questioningly. The Dark Lord gave a jerky nod in response, taking his fingers out of his arse and dropping his hand away from it completely.

Harry tried with feathery touch at his entrance, then, letting out a nervous breath, slowly placed one finger inside Voldemort. The man hissed lowly and started to recline back in attempt to lay down and give Harry better access to his arse.

Removing his other hand from the Dark Lord’s erection for a moment, Harry support his shoulders to help Voldemort to lay properly, then put his hand where it seemed to belong, the finger of his other hand still remaining in the man’s hole and twitching and twisting in there slightly. The dark Lord already stretched himself a bit, but Harry still proceeded very slowly, gently massaging the insides almost at the very entrance, then inserting the finger gradually further and stretching the tight hole, dragging small sounds of stress out of Voldemort in the process.

“ _Fas-ss-ster!_ ” the Dark Lord hissed impatiently, fidgeting on the ground and grimacing, when Harry’s finger caught on something in his arse, his nail scraping the soft skin there.

Harry bit on his lip in brief contemplation, then added the second finger, took the Dark Lord’s member in the fist of his free hand and bent down.

Voldemort hoarsely cried out: Harry blew on his member, then licked at the head and trailed a path of saliva along the length, with his eyes raised to see the reaction of the Dark Lord.

‘ _I won’t last,_ ’ Voldemort managed curtly.

Harry’s mouth twitched in a satisfied smirk, eyes glinting with mischief.

“ _Don you dare – !_ ” Voldemort threatened in hoarse voice.

With a crooked smirk Harry trailed the second mirroring line on the other side of his member and simultaneously added third finger into his arse, his moves there taking up faster jagged rhythm, stretching and working Voldemort up.

The Dark Lord responded to each of his actions with more and more carnal keening and wanton moans, fidgeting and writhing underneath Harry, his hands shooting up and randomly touching the boy’s back, sides and hips, removing the unnecessary robe from him in the process.

Suddenly Harry felt the hand on his own forgotten member.

He froze for a second, then made a conscious effort to relax under the touch, wincing, when realising, that he lost some of his erection to nervousness.

Being distracted Harry’s hands slowed down and he managed to scrape Voldemort with his teeth. He froze the second time in the last minute, when the fact registered, but Voldemort only shuddered and hissed quietly, his hips attempting to shoot upwards into Harry’s face in a sign of his pleasure. Harry smirked, his tongue still on the man’s member, circling it in wet spiral trails, and deliberately scraped the sensitive skin with his teeth. Voldemort tried to leap up, only Harry’s hand on his hip and the other – shooting deeper into his arse making him lie back again with a low groan.

‘ _Too much,_ ’ the Dark Lord breathed out in Harry’s mind. ‘ _– won’t last –_ ’

Harry looked into his face, slowly removing the hand on his member and fingers out of him, then motioned to his own member, which still had not regained its full hardness.

“Too much stress,” he breathed out, upset.

“Let me,” the Dark Lord slurred half-coherently and brought his hand to Harry’s half-erect cock, then pointed for Harry to shuffle closer to Voldemort’s head.

“Don’t,” muttered Harry, but the man was already positioning himself so, that his mouth was at the right place to suck Harry up.

Harry blushed, even his neck and upper collarbone going deep-red, feeling the Dark Lord’s hot and heavy breath on the sensitive skin of his own cock, plump chaffed lips carefully coming closer and closer. Harry couldn’t tear his gaze from the scene, his mind drawing a blank even before the actual interaction. When Voldemort finally took Harry into his mouth, the latter let out a strangled cry, immediately muffling it with his bitten fist.

‘ _Too fast – ,_ ’ Harry tried to reach Voldemort mentally to warn him.

‘ _Got it – ,_ ’ the Dark Lord let his cock out, a thin line of saliva trailing from the corner of his half-opened mouth to Harry’s cock’ head, still connecting them. His fingers encircled the base of Harry’s erection, squeezing it tightly.

Harry sobbed at the sensation.

“Should I do it?” Voldemort suggested.

Harry looked at him without understanding.

Voldemort gently pushed on his shoulders to put the boy down on his back and was going to climb on top of him, but Harry stopped him with a soft touch of his palm to his chest.

“Let me,” he whispered and shuffled, changing their positions, but opting to remain on his knees between the man’s opened legs instead. Harry trailed the tips of his fingers along Voldemort’s length with a pensive expression, then took him by his knees, opening him up more and tried to position himself at his entrance.

‘ _I’d be careful,_ ’ he promised and tried to push inside.

Voldemort let out a sudden sob, quickly biting on his lip to shut himself up, and looked at Harry’s flushed face. The boy was looking at him with tense attention, not moving, after he managed to push the head inside him, obviously unfamiliar with the process and stressing out about it.

Grimacing, Voldemort brought his hips upwards and then down with some force, trying to get more of Harry inside himself.

“Go!” he ordered.

“B-but – ”

“Move!” the Dark Lord growled, raising and dropping his hips again.

With a forced grunt Harry thrust into Voldemort, sheathing himself completely up to his balls with a slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh, then moved slowly back out, his shudder mirroring Voldemort’s tremble.

Harry watched with growing worry when the Dark Lord started wincing and writhing underneath him from an obvious discomfort, the waves of desire, which had been coming from him through their mental connection at the beginning of the intercourse, steadily turning into bursts of anxiety and distress. He looked as if at the verge of a breakdown on the outside, too, Harry noticed with mixture of horror and frustration, his own desire subsiding a bit at that. Moving gently and slowly, Harry brought Voldemort’s legs down to the ground and, freeing his hands, started to tentatively knead the tensed muscles, stroke them, gradually moving his gliding hands up Voldemort’s leg to his hips and lower abdomen, caressing him there. Then he bent down and licked the skin above the man’s groin, his tongue ascending up to his stomach and chest afterwards. He still was inside Voldemort, but not moving his lower body, opting to distract the Dark Lord from uncomfortable sensations with his ministrations for a while. At last he reached Voldemort’s collarbone and neck, licking and leaving ghost kisses on his way there. Looking in the red eyes, which were watching him tensely, Harry locked his lips with the Dark Lord’s in a soft chaste kiss. The kiss became heated in an instant, Voldemort deepening it and thrusting his tongue into Harry’s mouth almost up to his throat roughly. Harry let out a loud ‘ah!’ into the kiss, closing his eyes for a moment, his breath catching up from the violent, but sweet intrusion. Still not releasing Voldemort’s mouth, Harry continued to caress the unresponsive body under him with gentle ghostly touches of his fingertips to the cool skin, heating under his hands.

When he finally sensed Voldemort to relax inside their minds and his muscles loose tension under his hands, Harry at last started to move his hips slowly, thrusting forward and sliding almost fully out each time, Voldemort’s low moans of pleasure, slowly increasing in amount and volume, inspiring him to continue.

‘ _I am going to –_ ’ Harry tried to warn Voldemort after a while, but his speeding up thrusts and unfocused gaze were more than enough warning for the man. The Dark Lord’s attempt to move off of him, before it was too late, was unsuccessful – Harry came with a loud outcry of “Tom!”, his member pulsing and shooting hot wave after wave inside Voldemort’s arse, making him come, too, though reluctantly. Harry felt Voldemort’s orgasm add to his own through their connected minds, the sensations overwhelming them completely.

For a moment Harry’s vision went black, so he didn’t see Voldemort rolling up his eyes in faint spell, as well.

With a tired sigh Harry slid out from Voldemort’s arse and looked at the man with worried expression.

“Hey,” he called out unsure.

Voldemort moaned softly and came to his senses, though his red eyes were still bleary.

“Potter, you idiot!” he cursed hoarsely. “Did you forget about magic at all?” he winced.

“What?!” Harry blinked at him incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“First, have you ever heard about lubricant?” fidgeting on the ground, grumbled Voldemort. “And second, I thought I had made myself clear: we should add magical power during the intercourse. Why was I doing all the work?” he inquired acidly.

Harry bristled.

“Were you expecting me to become an expert in this all right at first try?” he snapped in similar irritation.

Voldemort pursed his lips annoyed: “Seems like we’d need to repeat the act.”

Harry blushed furiously at that.

Voldemort shrugged and spread his legs apart.

“The incantation is ‘Lubrio’,” Voldemort grumbled, grimacing. “And don’t forget to add magic power to your climax,” he added, rolling his eyes. “It’s not about getting off, it’s about getting out.”

Harry stared at him in shock.

“What are you saying?” Not moving, asked Harry.

“I am saying,” quietly started Voldemort, “fuck me already, Potter!” he barked angrily. “And properly this time!”

Harry bristled and shuffled away from him, instead of coming closer.

“What’s with you, Potter?” Voldemort snapped.

“No, what is with **_you_** , Tom?!”

“Don’t call me that!” Voldemort snarled furious.

“‘Voldemort’s too long to cry out when coming!” Harry retorted in kind. “I am not doing it right away again, I am no sex-machine! And neither is you, by the way! It’s not me, who passed out at his climax!”

Voldemort went pink in the face at the reminder of his weakness.

“I’m absolutely fine! And besides, it was you doing most of the work, as it should be now, too!”

“I’ve said,” Harry raised his voice to be heard. “I am no sex-machine! Even being a teenager doesn’t mean I am able to come three times in a row within half-hour!”

Voldemort huffed in indignation.

“You have another half-hour at most to rest, then we need to get down to business again,” he offered with great reluctance.

“You know, this is becoming more and more ridiculous with each moment,” Harry said and simply plopped down on his back beside the Dark Lord, ignoring the fact that they both were still naked and sticky with sweat and cum.

“Aguamenti, Scorgify” Voldemort muttered almost in one word, swiftly flourishing his wand over their bodies.

“At least it’s not cold in here,” mumbled Harry sleepily, his eyelids dropping.

“Don’t you dare sleep, Potter!” Voldemort warned him, but it was too late: Harry turned on his side and snuggled closer to him in search of warmth and comfort, despite his own words, and started to snore softly somewhere into the Dark Lord’s armpit.

Sighing in resignation, Voldemort closed his eyes as well, nodding off.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes some time later and immediately raised up onto his elbows, turning towards the wall. It seemed to slow down its advance on them, the movement almost unnoticeable.

Harry looked at the sleeping form beside him: Voldemort was lying on his back, one arm stretched to Harry, the other – over his chest, holding in place the robe he was covered with. Harry remembered its corner falling of his own chest, when he woke and got up. Harry looked around and saw the second robe, lying on the ground in about a foot away from them.

He let Voldemort sleep for another ten or fifteen minutes, before finally deciding to wake him. Looking pensively at the Dark Lord Harry chewed on his lip in thought, then bent down and touched his lips in a tentative kiss.

Voldemort sighed into the kiss and slowly opened his eyes, looking up at Harry questioningly.

“Should we repeat?” Harry asked softly.

Voldemort nodded without a word.

Harry shuffled closer to him and carefully put a hand on the bare chest of the Dark Lord, palm flat and unmoving, waiting for some kind of encouragement from the man.

“Go on,” barely above a whisper offered Voldemort, the muscles of his chest twitching slightly under Harry’s touch.

“You’re still tense,” Harry observed quietly.

“It’s unavoidable,” the Dark Lord responded in kind. “Unpleasant memories,” he supplied.

“I know we discussed this, but maybe we switch?” Harry offered.

“No, go on,” Voldemort sighed.

Harry grimaced, but obliged, gently gliding his hand down to the Dark Lord’s abdomen and putting the other hand under his neck, caressing there and lifting the man’s head to kiss him, the movements of his lips soft and careful, with no tongue at first. Voldemort took away the initiative, as he’d done before, his tongue stroking the inside of Harry’s mouth, hungry moan escaping him, when the kiss deepened and became heated, teeth and tongues coming into play properly.

While distracting Voldemort with kisses and caresses, Harry steadily slid down his body to lay between his thighs, parting Voldemort’s legs with his raised knee.

Removing a hand, which had been caressing Voldemort’s nape, Harry pressed its palm into the Dark Lord’s groin, covering the bulge, still hidden under the fold of the robe. Voldemort groaned loudly into his mouth, jerking his hips up, when Harry squeezed him over the fabric, rubbing his hand against it gently.

Harry ended the kiss and slid some more, his head coming to the level of Voldemort’s abdomen. He rested his chin there, looking up at the Dark Lord’s already flushed face, then smirked mischievously and dropped his head onto the man’s crotch, still not removing the cloth from there.

“Ha-Harry,” Voldemort breathed out, his voice hitching, when the boy gnawed on the flesh under the robe very carefully. He sobbed, when Harry’s mouth left his groin, a thin line of saliva leaking out of the corner of his quirking lips, his eyes going glassy.

Harry at last removed the interfering robe with one swift motion and lunged down on him, the boy’s lips closing around Voldemort’s still soft, but gradually hardening flesh, tongue circling the head, fingers of one hand caressing the base and balls, playing with them a bit, and scratching some, dragging a hiss out of Voldemort’s half-opened mouth. The Dark Lord watched with bleary eyes as Harry was sucking him, rolling his eyes up to look at him expectantly.

Suddenly Harry’s hand, which had been circling around the lower part of Voldemort’s cock, it being too big to fit completely into boy’s mouth, squeezed the base, making the Dark Lord groan in frustration.

“Better to do it together,” Harry explained, then furrowed, “What was that spell again?”

“Lubrio,” Voldemort breathed out and winced.

Harry reached for his wand lying at some distance from them and raised a brow at Voldemort.

“Just swish,” the latter gritted out, rolling his eyes.

Harry shrugged and repeated the incantation, swishing his wand and pointing it the fingers of his other hand and then to Voldemort’s anus for good measure.

The Dark Lord twitched from not very pleasant sensation of cool slickness, appearing in his still overstretched arse.

Harry threw away his wand and turned his attention back to the Dark Lord in an instant, his lubricated hand caressing and kneading the tight ring of muscles at Voldemort’s entrance, one finger almost immediately sliding in, followed by the second one. After quick impatient scissoring Harry put the third finger in, stretching Voldemort as much as he could.

All the while he was stroking and caressing his chest with the other hand, avoiding the nipples as a plague, remembering how the man reacted the two previous times, when touched there.

“That’s enough,” Voldemort murmured after several minutes, dragging Harry’s head up by his hair to nib on his lip before crushing his mouth in a kiss. ‘ _Fuck me already!_ ’ he growled in Harry’s mind impatiently.

Harry needn’t to be asked twice, his own neglected cock already hard and leaking pre-cum without either of them touching it. He looked at Voldemort for the last nod of confirmation.

“Now!”

Harry was already at the comfortable position between Voldemort’s parted legs, his member near theDark Lord’s entrance, so he just pushed forward, starting to thrust in and out almost instantly, not giving the man time to even breath properly.

One of Voldemort’s hands shot to Harry’s mouth: ‘ _Lick!_ ’ he ordered, after which brought this hand, covered in Harry’s saliva to his own twitching cock, pumping it in time with Harry’s thrusts in him.

‘ _I’m coming,_ ’ Harry slurred inside their minds.

‘ _Too,_ ’ Voldemort responded in kind, his fist on his cock speeding up along with Harry’s thrusts, increasing in frequency. ‘ _Magic,_ ’ he managed to remind Harry. “ _Yesssss – !!!_ ” he climaxed with a sibilant hiss, putting as much of his magical power into this outburst of mixed emotions and senses, as he could, Harry following suit with a muffled cry of “Tom!”, his magic lashing out in all directions and mixing with Voldemort’s, and falling on him after his own climax, trying to reach his mouth to seal their coercion with a kiss. Voldemort attempted to turn away, but he was spent so dry, both energy- and magic-wise, that Harry managed to steal a chaste peck on his lips, which turned into rather passionate, though tired kiss, when Voldemort surrendered and tried to conquer Harry’s mouth with his tongue, growling in the kiss and hearing Harry moan in response. After they parted, Harry snuggled tighter, making himself comfortable on Voldemort’s chest, rubbing his cheek against hot sweaty skin.

“What’s wrong?” Harry slurred sleepily, when felt Voldemort shudder underneath him.

“No idea,” muttered Voldemort equally sleepily. “Think, I felt something. Some magic. Dunno,” he trailed off, another shudder going through him, and cursed lowly.

“Wha – ?” Harry lifted his heavy head, his eyes half-closed already.

Voldemort grimaced, as if in pain. Harry made an effort to reach him mentally and, indeed, felt the echo of pain, already subsiding, but still lingering, like a stinging hula hup around the Dark Lord’s mid-torso. Harry furrowed, some of his sleepiness dissipating.

“Are you okay?”

“Should be in a second, I think,” Voldemort muttered. “It’s already left. Possibly, just the leftover of our combined magical outburst.”

“Looks, like it didn’t work though,” Harry sighed upset.

Voldemort shrugged.

“You better rest, then we move out,” he suggested quietly. “No point in staying in this spot all the time. Better go as far as possible from that wall, while we still can. Sleep.” He closed his eyes, as did Harry, both of them falling asleep right away.


	6. ~V~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet read it, I recomend you to read the A/N for the previous chapter ;-)
> 
> Also, just for your information, as usual I am a bit ahead with my writing, so probably in a week or so there could be another chapter.;-p But don't quote me on this, I might get stuck in the last paragraph of it or something, resulting in the more lenghty waiting for the update. My aspiration is unstable like this, yeah! :-(
> 
> * * *

When Harry woke some time later, he felt even more drained, than before he fell asleep, his head heavy and pounding with dull ache. He opened his eyes slowly to look at his “living pillow”: Voldemort was still unconscious, it seemed, his brow furrowed and mouth twisted in a tired grimace. Harry raised his head and his eyes opened wide in surprise – they were not on the empty plane of the Death realm anymore, instead he saw dusty curtains above him. Lifting his head higher, Harry saw the unfamiliar room: most of its space was taken by a big bed he and Voldemort shared. There was also a cold fireplace, a wardrobe of some kind, small table with mirror, two closed doors and a window to the side. Everything was dusty, like the curtains, the sheets underneath him felt old, worn out, damp and dusty, as well, the chandeliers on the shelf above the fireplace, near the mirror and on bedside tables were empty, the only gray light coming from the half curtained window, indicating that it was either early morning or evening outside.

“You better wake up,” Harry shook the man on whose chest he was lying by his shoulders. “Tom!”

“Don’ call me tha’!” The Dark Lord slurred sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“You need to see this!”

“Wha – ?”

“Wake up, dammit!” Harry shook Voldemort more violently and raised his hand to slap the man on his cheek.

“Don’t you dare!” still not opening his eyes warned him Voldemort.

Harry sighed and, smirking suddenly, bent down and planted an open-mouthed kiss on the man’s grimacing lips. Red eyes flew open in surprise, immediately narrowing at the sight of smirking Harry.

“Didn’t think we are at this stage already,” Voldemort commented.

“What, you think sex is not a reason to get acquainted?” Harry snorted. Then his expression turned serious. “You better tell me you know where we are.”

Voldemort tore his gaze from Harry and looked around.

“Looks like my secret hideout,” he muttered, recognition dawning on him.

“What?!”

“This is one of my houses,” Voldemort elaborated. “In Albanian mountain forest, to be precise.”

“How did we end up here?” Harry wondered.

Voldemort shrugged without an ounce of worry: “Quite possibly my safety spell brought us here. Though it’s strange, that it brought you along, too,” he added thoughtfully.

“I am your soul-piece, maybe, that’s why?” Harry offered.

Voldemort nodded: “Might be the case.”

“So it seems, our plan did work!” Harry exclaimed. “Just not right away.”

“Right. Now, will you move off from my persona?” Voldemort drawled with warning in his tone.

Harry quickly rolled off him and sprang away from the bed, frantically searching for his wand, while Voldemort did the same, though, with less nervousness to his movements.

At last they both found their wands and simultaneously pointed them at each other.

“Are we going to duel?” Harry asked tensely.

“Why, of course!” drawled Voldemort in a silky tone. “Do you object?”

“May I at least have some clothes on?” Harry inquired tentatively. “You’re naked, too, by the way.”

“It does not bother me in the least,” Voldemort dismissed the issue easily.

“It bothers me,” Harry muttered under his breath, ogling the naked Dark Lord, despite the seriousness of the situation.

Voldemort huffed in annoyance.

“That’s not polite to stare,” he reprimanded and swished his wand. The door of the wardrobe burst open and black robe flew out and down onto his bare shoulders, reminding Harry of their encounter the previous year in the cemetery. The only difference was the human appearance of the Dark Lord.

“No robe for me, huh?” Harry dared to ask.

“You won’t need it in a moment,” baring his teeth, promised Voldemort.

Harry sighed and lowered his wand, his eyes closing in resignation.

“Go ahead, Tom,” he suggested quietly, his voice weak. “Anyway I don’t have any magic left in me,” he muttered.

Voldemort creased his brow in thought, then dismissed it and swished his wand, intoning evenly: “Crucio.”

The next second his wand cluttered on the wooden floor, the Dark Lord collapsing on his knees with hands around his mid-torso with a snarl, pain twisting his face in a grimace.

At the same moment when Voldemort fired a spell Harry swayed on his feet, paling drastically, feeling the remains of his magic lash out in tune with Voldemort’s wand movement, as if he was using Harry’s magical core for the curse, instead of his own. He felt a tail of the Dark Lord’s pain through their mental connection, as well.

Voldemort cursed loudly and straightened his back again, looking angrily at Harry, who at last collapsed on his knees, too, seemingly loosing the last of his energy, his face taking a gray tint to it, his lips whitening and his eyes loosing their focus.

“How did you do it?!”

“I did nothing,” in a weak voice managed to grit Harry. “Looks like your curse backfired again,” he mumbled, trying not to faint from magical drain and loss of energy.

“I’ve felt your magic in the curse,” Voldemort snarled accusingly.

“You drained the last of my magic. I did nothing,” Harry repeated in half-whisper, his eyes closing and his body sliding to the ground, him loosing his consciousness at last.

* * *

Harry was roughly awakened by a waterfall drenching him from head to toe. He gasped and opened his eyes to see Voldemort, towering over him with an empty bucket in one hand and both of their wands in the other, a nasty smirk on his face, red eyes gleaming threateningly.

Coughing and spitting, Harry attempted to sit up, only to find himself being tied up so tight, it was hard to breathe.

“Awake at last?” drawled Voldemort mockingly.

Harry ignored the question completely, warily eyeing his wand in the hands of his enemy.

“Don’t worry, Harry. I will hold onto this for a while,” with a lazy smile continued Voldemort. “You see, while we returned to the world of the living, our wands continue to not work against each other. Also I found out that our magical cores are tied to each other now. I still do not know how or why that had happened. Your part of our combined core is rather drained now. Unfortunately, I find myself unable to draw magical power from my own core without draining you further. It seems, my own energy is constantly feeding something, presumably, some kind of a parting gift from Death, some curse, holding up my magic, so I cannot take even a tiny drop of it for my perusal.”

Harry listened to him, silently fuming and trying to glare a hole in the middle of Voldemort’s forehead, not showing any reaction to his words, only the waves of his anger and irritation reaching the Dark Lord through their mental connection.

“You may say something,” suddenly suggested Voldemort, as Harry was keeping silent even after his speech was ended.

“I am surprised, I am not gagged, actually,” Harry grumbled.

“Oh, there is no need,” Voldemort waved a hand in dismissal. “The closest town is several miles away, and, besides, this place is heavily warded. You will not be heard by anyone but me here.”

“What do you want me to say? We returned home and are back to being enemies, so what is here to say?” Harry asked bitterly.

“What do I hear? Do you regret it?”

“I am glad we are back among the living. But it upsets me, that we are back to how we were. Surely, the sex has to mean something even to you?” Harry continued in the same tone.

Voldemort grimaced.

“That was a ritual, I told you as much before. And I am surprised that you wish for it to be something else.”

“If the ritual was what it took to leave the Death’ household, we should have been released after the first try already, don’t you think?”

“The first try was one-sided, magic-wise. It was uncompleted.”

“I doubt that mattered,” Harry muttered. “And, besides, I did add some magic into that as well, you just hadn’t noticed it.”

Voldemort raised his brow in disbelief.

“Indeed?”

“Yes!” snapped Harry. “You were so immersed in your ‘unpleasant memories’ that you missed it. And I decided not to speak of it with you then. So it seems we should have returned earlier, but did not.”

Voldemort hummed in contemplation.

“Maybe one time was simply not enough,” he mused.

Harry winced.

“Wishful thinking? You don’t want to believe, so you come up with excuses! And lame ones, at that!”

“What difference does it make in the long run? We have returned, that is what matters. And you are in my hands. The rest is moot.”

“Fine. But you just said that you depend on my magic, and there is almost none of it left. So where does this put us? Who is the captor and who – the captive?” Harry raised a brow mockingly.

Voldemort’s nostrils flared in anger, eyes glinting bright red and wand hand twitching to curse Harry.

“Should I remind you that your curses backfire?” Harry asked, sighing tiredly.

Voldemort bared his teeth in a silent snarl, but didn’t raise his wand, opting to swear loudly instead. Harry winced.

The Dark Lord stood up abruptly and moved away from Harry, turning his back on him.

“The curse feeding on my magic worries me greatly,” the Dark Lord confessed, not looking at Harry. “I fear I need you in order to get rid of it. That is bothersome. You are nothing special. Why should I need you?” he sighed heavily.

“I bear the piece of your soul. We were drawn into the realm of Death together. And had sex there, not once, but two times. How am I not special?”

“Now you talk about sex,” Voldemort snorted with strange feeling.

Harry raised a surprised brow.

“Is it regret I sense?”

“Not at all,” the Dark Lord responded with a closed off expression.

“Hey, maybe you can untie me?” Harry fidgeted in his binds, only now seeing that they were simply shredded sheets from the bed, although the knots were done rather thoroughly, “And then we can have a civilized conversation?”

The Dark Lord turned around and eyed him in silent contemplation.

“I’ll behave,” Harry promised solemnly and motioned with his chin towards himself with a raised brow, his movement accidentally demonstrating an angry red mark under one of the ‘ropes’.

Voldemort pursed his lips in annoyance, not moving a finger to remove the binds.

“You know, it’s not fair,” Harry pouted. “You are up and about, clothed and rested, while I am bound, naked and dead tired, not to mention wet from you waking me up rather harshly, and to top it all my head hurts from the magical drain and your anger is knocking onto my temples.” Harry winced. “Can you at least cease the latter?”

Voldemort slowly raised his wand, or rather, both of their wands, as he still held them in one fist.

Murmuring the quiet incantation he vanished the robes, using both wands simultaneously. They both grimaced.

“Thank you, I can dress up manually,” Harry said sarcastically in weak and hoarse voice, his face turning gray in color again. He managed to stand up slowly, but was swaying on his feet and trembling slightly, when made a step towards the wardrobe. Opening it up Harry found it full of simple black robes made of nice to the touch silky material. Choosing one at random, he put it on, moving carefully, as if his body was made of a fragile crystal, and turned to the Dark Lord, who was waiting for him with surprising patience, watching his movements like a hawk, or just ogling him maybe.

“Like what you see?” Harry asked hoarsely, not looking Voldemort in the eye.

“Yes,” came the simple reply.

Harry bristled.

“As far as I had understood, you have not too much experience over me in these matters, and most of it was unpleasant. So what gives?”

“You are something, Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord admitted. “You are standing on unsteady feet and with no wand in front of the Dark Lord and have the audacity to flirt with your sworn enemy.”

“The said enemy groaned in pleasure under me just couple of hours ago. The said enemy gifted me with a piece of his soul. And you tell me, that I am ‘something’?!” Harry snorted and shook his head in exasperation. “Maybe it’s time to move on from this ‘mortal enemies’ stuff at last?” he offered in peaceful tone. “I had already said before, that I don’t fancy killing you, or anyone at all, really.”

The Dark Lord slowly shook his head: “These matters cannot be solved simply by your refusal to kill me, or your one-sided declaration of peace. It’s politics, not just your personal vendetta.”

“Why should it be one-sided? If we both agree to stop going for each other’s throats and just talk – ”

“You are not the commander of the so-called ‘Light’ side, Potter.”

“You mean Dumbledore?” Harry winced.

Voldemort nodded with a grimace of his own: “Yes.”

“I wonder what would he do if I come to him and say that not only I refuse to fight you, but, you, as well, are ready to sit down at the negotiating table?” Harry smirked mirthlessly.

“I would be glad if the old fool got a stroke thanks to these news,” Voldemort’s joy, on the other hand, was genuine.

“So typical of you to laugh at other’s misfortune, even imagined one!” Harry sighed, then nodded with his chin to the bed. “Do you mind if I sit? The magical drain is taking its toll on me, it seems.” He looked much more worn out suddenly, as if the remnants of his energy has left him abruptly.

“Still, you’re something,” Voldemort murmured in contemplation. “You’re not afraid to admit your weakness in front of me, your enemy,” he muttered.

“I’m tired of repeating this: I don’t consider you my enemy! Not any more,” Harry huffed. “Even if in your books sex doesn’t mean anything, be it made for ritual or for pleasure, I know that I’ve felt something beside physical satisfaction when with you. Maybe not from the first moment, but still, there was something else in addition to just good fuck,” Harry blushed a little at his own words. “Don’t get me wrong, please, that doesn’t mean that I like anything which makes me hard, or vice versa – fuck all that I like.” Harry narrowed his eye pointedly. “Though I must confess, I liked what we were doing back there and I liked what I saw, too. And yes, that made me hard,” Harry didn’t bother to add ‘now’, seeing the grimace on the Dark Lord’s face. At least, now they were talking instead of dueling, and he didn’t want to spoil the moment. Though, the mild hard-on he just got remembering their time in the realm of Death was a bit disturbing, especially in his tired state.

The Dark Lord snorted loudly and rolled his eyes at Harry.

“What are you going to do now, Potter?” he smirked and wriggled his eyebrows.

Harry blushed, realizing that the Dark Lord must have sensed his desire through their mental connection.

“Nothing,” he grumbled annoyed. “What does it matter to you, anyway?” Harry raised his chin indignantly. “I am your enemy, my sexual frustration should not bother you!”

“Oh, but it does,” the Dark Lord purred sweetly. “You’re my soul-piece, after all.”

“Control-freak,” Harry snorted.

“Yes,” smirked Voldemort. “I need to control what is mine.”

“I am not ‘yours’!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “I am my own person!”

“It does not matter, Harry,” the Dark Lord drawled. “You have my soul-piece in you, and I doubt it can be removed. At least not harmlessly, of that I am certain.”

“To me or to you?” Harry smirked meaningfully.

“You might not believe me, but probably both,” Voldemort declared.

“Well, you might not believe **_me_** , but I don’t care,” Harry confessed. “I am the Savior, remember? They prepared me to die trying, if necessary.”

“Why do you say so?” with curiosity, which surprisingly, seemed to be genuine, inquired Voldemort.

“I have told you already: I think, Dumbledore had known from the very beginning that I hold a piece of your soul. As you’ve just said it cannot be harmless – to remove it from me.”

“True. I do not know a way to do it without bringing harm to either me or you. But that is Dumbledore we are talking about: he might have had the means long ago, or, which is more possible, he does not care about harm coming to me. It does not necessarily mean that all this time he had been preparing you to become his sacrifice lamb.”

Harry looked at the Dark Lord in disbelief: “Are you trying to talk me into believing that Dumbledore is not that bad?” Harry let out a laugh.

Voldemort shrugged: “I may have different views from the man, but have to give him credit: he truly cares for those he calls friends and family. And from what I’ve seen of you both through these past years he considers you one of his own in all but name.”

Harry winced: “It certainly didn’t look like it to me, especially this year. I tried to come to him for help and he dumped me on Snape. Ugh!”

The Dark Lord laughed at that.

“Poor fellow didn’t know what to do with honors,” he smirked. “Not once he complained how weak and incompetent you are in the mind magic.”

“I suppose that was partly your fault,” Harry pointed an accusing finger in the Dark Lord’s face. “Or rather your soul-piece in me,” he added, his humor subsiding.

“Potter, there’s no point in grieving over this so much. It cannot be undone.” The Dark Lord reprimanded him with a sigh. “Your self-pity is annoying, it gives me stomachache,” he grumbled.

“Hey! Are you sure it’s not that curse you were talking about?” Harry asked with worry, surprising even to himself. Voldemort looked at him in wonder.

“Are you worried over me, Potter?” he inquired with disbelief.

“Looks like it,” Harry nodded and then shrugged: “Though, why should I, really?” He shook his head. “I am surprised actually, that you still hadn’t researched the curse thoroughly.”

“There was no time. And my magic is blocked, while yours is almost absent. I hadn’t had the means.” Voldemort grumbled.

“I get it,” Harry sighed. “So, what should we do, then?”

“I have a small collection of books in here about magical theory, we should consult those. Though in your case the rest is more vital. You shall sleep here,” Voldemort decided. “I am going to my study to read. Do not try to leave: the property is warded and wards are tied to my magic,” the Dark Lord gave Harry a nasty glare and smirked, “Not only it will alarm me, but all the magic left in you will be gone into the wards.”

“Fine, fine. I was not going to abandon you,” Harry grumbled. “Especially, when you’re tied to my magic.”

“You will not ‘abandon’ me!” Voldemort snarled. “For this you need to be special, and you are certainly not! I am not going to cry over your departure,” his face twisted in disgust. “I do not cry over anything! Hadn’t, really, for many years,” he muttered under his nose. “Though, I suppose I am going to go and retrieve you in case you escape. And I’ll make sure you won’t like the punishment,” he warned Harry with malicious glint in red eyes.

Harry sighed and fell back onto his back tiredly, immediately closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Harry was slowly waking, when he felt the mattress underneath him dipping and shifting at the same time he sensed Voldemort reach him inside their minds.

‘ _What are you doing?_ ’ Harry mumbled, his mind still in a sleepy haze.

‘ _Testing,_ ’ the Dark Lord didn’t elaborate further.

‘ _What?!_ ’ cryptic answer was enough for Harry to fully wake, opening his eyes and looking with suspicion at the approaching Dark Lord. The man was kneeling on the bed and slowly coming onto Harry on all fours, his robe lying in a heap at the foot of the bed. Harry eyed the naked form warily. “What kind of test is that?!”

“I am trying to see if switching our roles will undo the damage,” explained Voldemort.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“It occurred to me, that the curse, or whatever that is, appeared at our simultaneous climax, when we both added magic to it. I wonder if doing it again will remove the spell.”

“Did you comfortably forget, that you don’t have access to your magic and I am spent dry, just to fuck me?” Harry inquired acerbically, his embarrassment temporarily forgotten in view of possible sexual assault.

“You should have already accumulated some of the energy you’d lost,” noted Voldemort.

“And what about the first part? Your magical core is blocked, is it not?”

“I was hoping to temporarily lift that block with enough will power applied,” Voldemort responded. “Or take some of yours.”

“You wish!” Harry huffed. Then bristled: ”Stop right there!”

Voldemort surprisingly obliged, freezing in mid-motion with right knee in front of him and supporting himself on his left hand. Harry saw that he was still holding both of their wands in the other hand. The Dark Lord watched him intently, but made no move to come closer after Harry’s order.

“Why do you deny it, Harry? I’ve sensed your desire before and I felt it while you slept. Even now – ”

“I am a teenager, for Merlin’s sake!” Harry snapped. “It is normal to wake up with a hard-on! Didn’t you have those, too, in your younger days? Or maybe even these mornings you wake with a fist full of stone hard cock and cum on your underpants?”

“I am not a bitch in heat!” Voldemort snarled. “I am an adult and I have enough ways to satisfy my needs without the disgusting things you mentioned!”

Harry openly laughed at that.

“I don’t believe you. I’ve fucked you already! Remember? I saw how you reacted to the smallest of my touches and your hole was too tight to be used often, if at all. Judging by your clumsiness, I suspect that you are not screwing anyone on the daily basis, also!”

“Sex is not the only way to satisfy oneself,” Voldemort informed him. “There are other means.”

“Oh? Like what? Torturing someone to oblivion?” Harry mocked.

“Exactly,” not smiling, confirmed the Dark Lord. “Killing also does the trick.”

Harry paled and shuffled on his bent elbows as far away from the Dark Lord still standing on his knees on the bed as he could.

“This was uncalled for,” Harry gritted. “The remnants of my mood are officially ruined. And killers can go fuck themselves if they want,” he spat and brought a pillow down on his face to hide Voldemort from view.

“You are still hard,” Voldemort observed after short silence.

‘ _Get out of my mind!_ ’ Harry snarled mentally. “And get lost!” he added furiously aloud, throwing the pillow at the Dark Lord, who was slowly creeping towards him on all fours again, successfully getting him in the face with the makeshift projectile.

The pillow went flying to the center of the room, warded off by the violent jerk of Voldemort’s fist. He swished his other hand with two wands clenched in it, angrily growling “Crucio!”. And next instant he was bending on himself, crying out in pain and clutching his stomach with both hands, wands dropped.

Harry let out a short yelp, felling the ghost pain through their mental connection, too, and clutched at his temples, squinting his eyes, as his head exploded with pain, as well, from the rough outburst of magic, dragged by Voldemort’s curse from Harry’s core with too much force.

Opening his bleary eyes Harry looked at Voldemort who was still nursing his abdomen, his face white as sheet with a green tint to its edges, and muttering curses voicelessly.

“Idiot!” spat Harry angrily. “As if it is the first time! Really!” he shook his still throbbing head in exasperation.

Instead of answering Voldemort stood up in a rush and disappeared behind one of the doors.

Harry looked after his retreating form in surprise, but quickly realized what was the matter, as the Dark Lord left the door slightly ajar: the man was hugging the toilet, retching violently, then throwing up, loudly moaning and sobbing in process, one of his hands still tightly wound around his mid-torso in obvious pain.

After some time the sounds of Voldemort’s distress, coming from bathroom, changed to the steady splashes of water in the sink, and then he, at last, emerged, wrapped in fluffy bathrobe thoroughly. The Dark Lord strode to the bed with purpose and plopped on it, stretching on his back beside Harry without a word, letting out a contented sigh. Harry watched him tensely, but Voldemort remained, where he laid, even closing his eyes. Harry still sensed his sickness through mental link, though it was less powerful now, but it nevertheless interfered with his sleepy state.

“Are you still horny?” Harry inquired with sarcasm.

“I sense that you are,” Voldemort gritted.

“A bit,” Harry admitted, even while his own hard-on was subsiding steadily and quickly. “Had you read anything useful while I slept?”

“Not much. Just theory on magical cores and such. Nothing of the matter,” Voldemort muttered tiredly.

“Have you rested yourself?” Harry asked.

“Not yet.”

“Sleep?” Harry offered. “I’m going to, anyway,” he added.

“Go ahead,” Voldemort encouraged him.

“Are you not going to?” mumbled Harry in sleepy voice, closing his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Harry fell asleep to the sound of quiet peaceful snoring of the Dark Lord beside him.

* * *

When Harry woke the Dark Lord was still sleeping. Having nothing else to do, Harry went to wander around the house. The idea to leave never even crossed his mind, instead his thoughts were occupied with what Voldemort had told him: about the soul, the shard of which accidentally landed in Harry, and what it could mean for them both. Also Harry felt that the Dark Lord’s strange reaction to his own curses could mean something trully terrific – again, for both of them. While turning these thoughts this way and that in his mind, Harry was slowly exploring the small tight place: everything looked worn out, furniture covered in dust, floors creacky, curtains in holes. Beside the bedroom they appeared in, the house held only two other rooms: kitchenette with miniscule dining area, and a study. The latter was, not surprisingly, fully packed from floor to ceiling with books, journals, parchments and whatnot. It also included a fireplace, and Harry briefly contemplated if it was was connected to the floo network. Maybe he should try at least firecalling to his friends? But Harry quickly realised, that it was too dangerous for both parties: they could try to either drag him away (and, to his own surprise, he was not ready to leave) or to come in to do something stupid (like fight the Dark Lord, or incarcerate him, for instance – and Harry for some reason didn’t like that idea, too, and not only because he was worried for his friends).

After thorough examination of the house Harry found himself in the study again. Sensing, that the Dark Lord was still sleeping, Harry pensively looked at the shelves around him, not sure if he would find anything interesting to read in here. He suspected, that the Dark Lord’s idea of light reading was far worse than Hermione’s. Shuddering at the thought, Harry went to the nearest shelf – he might as well try to find something about soul splinching and soul connections, he decided.

At first try all he had found were several dusty and scary-looking tomes filled with illegible scribbles instead of proper letters. Then his gaze fell on the desk and he smiled victorious: there were several books and journals, looking rather promising, which seemed not dusty, meaning that Voldemort was using them only recently, maybe when Harry was asleep earlier.

Harry grabbed the pile from the desk and went to sit in the armchair in front of the cold fireplace, as Voldemort’s chair behind the desk, quite frankly, looked as if it might bite him, if he tried to sit on it. Shaking his head at this thought and smirking crookedly, Harry set to read.

  


Immersed in reading Harry didn’t notice when Voldemort woke up and was startled at the sound of the loudly opened door and a snarl “What are you doing here?!” of the furious Dark Lord.

The pile of texts slid from Harry’s lap and landed on the floor with soft thud. He whirled around to look at the Dark Lord, who marched in the study and approached Harry with a questioningly raised brow.

“You were sleeping and I had nothing else to do,” Harry shrugged. “So I tried to read these,” he motioned to the pile under his feet. “Although, I can’t say I understand every word in there, but overall it’s not that bad.”

“It’s in Parsel,” noted Voldemort. “And I am surprised you can read it, frankly. Not because of Parseltongue, by the way. It is rather difficult, even I myself needed to consult other books just to understand some of what’s written in these.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbled. “I didn’t even realise it’s not English. Can you point to me those ‘other’ books you’ve mentioned? I’d really like to understand as much as I can in here,” he waived one of the journals in the air.

“Later. We both better eat now,” the Dark Lord suggested. “I need to step out for a while afterwards.”

“What? Where? Did your magic returned to you?” Harry asked eagerly.

“No. But I have urgent business in town, anyway.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Harry suggested. “I won’t run, promise,” he rushed to add. “I want to solve this crap, too.”

“Fine,” Voldemort pursed his lips. “We’ll dine in town in this case. And pay a visit to a bookstore in local magical street, as well.” He waved a hand towards the door in the inviting gesture, “Let us be gone.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the Dark Lord’s dramatics and went out of the study, with Voldemort on his heels.


	7. ~VI~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry for the long(ish) wait, RL, as usual, took up all of my time and power.  
> On the bright note, I am probably still writing like mad even now, when you're reading this, while I have inspiration and no other businesses. I am one-and-half chapters ahead right now, so, quite possibly, there will be one more chapter before New Year. As usual, I make no definite promises, but will try my best to fulfill this goal.
> 
> * * *
> 
> In this and next chapters I got too carried away lol. In my defense, I hadn't had any certain plot plans for this story anyway, so no harm done, I am glad my muse got a bit crasy xD
> 
> * * *

That was just what he needed, Harry silently fumed. Just when he thought that his life couldn’t get any more bizare than it already was, the Fate, or what have you, decided to play with him again, it seemed. Only about an hour ago he’d gone out to have dinner in a cafe somewhere on the outskirts of unnamed Muggle village in Albania in the company of his mortal enemy turned a reluctant ally due to their magic being in a tangled knot. And at first all had been pretty uneventful: they’d made an order and been waiting for food and for a person the Dark Lord should have been meeting there.

Of course, they, or rather, Harry needed a disguise, as his face, and, more importantly, the lightning bolt scar were too recognisable. No one remembered how Voldemort had looked like before he lost all traces of humanity to his appearance, so the Dark Lord simply changed into more Muggle-like clothes he kept at his secret hideout precisely for these purposes.

As for Harry – well, they decided that they couldn’t afford to spend magic for such trivialities as glamours, especially – complicated enough to hide the curse scars, as the Dark Lord put it – so the Boy Who Lived was going to do with Muggle disguise methods.

Hence Harry Potter was now wearing a long blonde curly wig with a nice fringe and bangs, which they borrowed from a mannequin in the shop on the other end of a village, along with the skirt, blouse and stockings from the other shop far enough from the first one to not raise a rucus over the repeated theft. The stilletto sandals completed the outfit, and Harry could not be more glad for the fact, that the heels of the only big enough sized pair were not too high. These they needed to actually buy, because looking for the right size had proven to be a nightmare without shop-assistant. Even then, the shoes were not Harry’s exact size, although a bit more bearable, than their first try (wich Voldemort “borrowed”, but in the end was forced to return back to the shop).

The issue of lightning bolt scar was dealt with, too, resulting in Harry’s face painted with the use of some poor girl’s makeup kit, which the Dark Lord shamelessly snatched in the yet another place they visited on their way to the cafe. All in all, the image was not bad, quite the contrary, but Harry was still shooting angry glares to his ‘companion’, though they were undermined by his everlasting furious blush and cute pouty lips, which, too, were painted in a nice shade of pink to match the blouse and nail polish, which the Dark Lord insisted that Harry needed in order to avert supposed qurious gazes from his not very feminine hands.

When the person Voldemort had been waiting for has arrived at last, Harry was glad to finally be somewhat hidden by their back from the rest of the cafe’s visitors, with the oily and sticky gazes of males and annoyed glances of females directed his way. His joy lasted maybe a minute or so, and then all of it went to the drain: their guest took out the gun and, pointing it right into Harry’s face made a threat “to shoot this pretty doll right between her beautiful eyes if the necromancer won’t cooperate”. After which they both were calmly led out, the gun now poking Harry between shoulder blades, and Voldemort angrilly hissing insults in Parseltongue under his breath, but not doing anything against their captor, which frankly surprised Harry a bit, before he remembered the situation with their magic.

The bald guy with a gun was at first muttering something along the lines of “Devil worshipers” and “should have burnt them on the spot”, harshly shoving Harry and Voldemort in the backs, ushering them forward, but then suddenly grabbed the Dark Lord by the shoulder, turning him and intensely looking into his eyes with a pleading look and asking with urgency: “Are you really the necromancer?! You can raise them, dead, can you not? My daughter! – ”

The situation could probably have still ended in their favour, Harry had mused, but then they were brought to their captor’s hideout, where his comrades were waiting. And among of them Harry spotted three familiar faces, whom neither he, nor the Dark Lord were glad to meet, and neither was anticipating to face in such a company: the darkest corner of the poorly lit room was occupied by none other than Lucius Malfoy, and amidst the crowd of people, who were looking suspiciously akin to criminals of some sort, Harry spotted two identical freckled faces under identical red haircuts.

  


‘ _Shit! We are screwed!_ ’ Harry exclaimed mentally. ‘ _Those are Weasleys! And have I just seen Malfoy over there?_ ’

‘ _Strange combination_ ,’ Voldemort hummed pensively.

‘ _Dangerous combination, I’d say,_ ’ Harry retorted. ‘ _Does Malfoy know your face? He may not recognise me like this –_ ’

‘ _Unfortunately, he does. What of blood-tratiors? Would they recognise you?_ ’

‘ _Very likely. And they are not traitors!_ ’

‘ _That’s unimportant right now, is it not?_ ’ Voldemort inquired mildly.

‘ _What do we do?_ ’ Harry rushed to ask nervously.

‘ _I must reluctantly admit that I do not know,_ ’ Voldemort’s mental voice was still rather calm despite the situation they were landing into. ‘ _I’d rather Lucius won’t learn of our little mishap with magic, though._ ’

Harry sighed and almost rolled his eyes.

‘ _Something tells me, neither he, nor the twins would admit to know us in front of this mob. These guys look dangerous. Maybe they are bandits of some kind?_ ’

‘ _Smugglers, to be precise. I might have accidentally looked into their minds,_ ’ Voldemort admitted shamelessly in response to Harry’s silent question. ‘ _And true believers in their Christian god,_ ’ he winced slightly.

‘ _What?_ ’

‘ _The one who took us wants to talk to his dead daughter, but aside from that he, and the rest of them, would gladly re-enact the Witch Trials of the Dark Ages._ ’

‘ _What?!_ ’

‘ _They want to burn us in the name of their god,_ ’ Voldemort supplied, smirking nastilly.

‘ _You do realise, that you are on the menu, too, right?_ ’ Harry frowned.

‘ _Well, yess – But such nonsense won’t affect either of us too badly, my lovely Horcrux,_ ’ the Dark Lord purred suavely.

Harry sent him an angry glare in response:  
‘ _They’re still burning us, and that must be awfully painful!_ ’

‘ _We’ll live,_ ’ Voldemort shrugged. ‘ _That’s what matters._ ’

‘ _Masochist!_ ’ Harry muttered. ‘ _We still need a plan! How about you help that baldy to meet his daughter?_ ’

‘ _Potter, Necromancy is a myth!_ ’ the Dark Lord snapped. ‘ _No one is able to raise the dead to talk to them!_ ’

‘ _I know, I know! Try to play it, as if you can, though. I need time to think!_ ’ Harry sent the Dark Lord a pointed look. ‘ _And anyway, do you want Lucius to learn of our problem with magic? No? Thought so. Then act your part, goddamit!_ ’

  


“Hey, doll, are you a witch, too?” their captor rumbled suddenly, his heavy hand landing on Harry’s shoulder and almost bringing him to the floor with its weight.

Harry bitten into his lip nervously and minutely shook his head in negative, trying to appear as harmless as he could.

‘ _If you speak up he’d know. Your voice is too low to be feminine,_ ’ the Dark Lord warned him.

‘ _Get lost,_ ’ Harry muttered distractedly. ‘ _I am thinking._ ’ 

  


“So, this is the necromancer you were talking about, Ben?” one of the men from the mob asked. “What’s with the girl?”

“Your bedwarmer, huh?” another man snorted raising a suggestive brow at the Dark Lord and Harry felt someone pinch his buttock harshly. He let out a high-pitched yelp of indignant surprise, turning on his heels to look at the offender and promptly slapped him on the cheek, huffing in annoyance.

“That’s not how you treat a lady!” his voice still painfully high in pitch, Harry exclaimed. “I am not his bedwarmer, you, brute!” he added with a hiss and narrowing of eyes, then pointed an accusing finger into the face of the man, who pinched him. “You just try this again!” he dared.

“Oh, please, do!” the Dark Lord murmured, smiling evilly. “I’d be glad to top up on the ingredients for potions,” he added with a threat in his voice. “Some of them require human parts, you see,” he “confided” in stage whisper.

Harry’s offender blanched and jerked away from both of them.

“You sure she’s not your girl?” asked someone invisible form the throng. “You certainly act like she is.” A man laughed harshly. “But if you say she’s available – ” he trailed off meaningfully. And next second, before either Harry or Voldemort could react, they were separated by the mob.

Harry felt himself being dragged to the other room of the house they were in by several men, with Malfoy among them, which have alerted Harry even more than the last statement for some reason. The Dark Lord was led to the opposite direction by Ben and about half of the mob, the Weasley twins included. Harry didn’t have time to ponder over this, though, as he was roughly manhandled by “his” part of the gang and brought into something looking suspiciosly like bedroom.

‘ _I am done,_ ’ Harry thought weakly. ‘ _They should know any minute –_ ’

‘ _Be glad,_ ’ Voldemort advised, ‘ _they still may try to kill you, though, but at least they will not violate you – maybe –_ ’ he finished, a bit less sure.

‘ _Thanks for your confidence,_ ’ Harry snorted pitifully. ‘ _Just know that I will transmit everything,_ ’ he added vindictively.

He felt a momentary surge of panic from Voldemort’s end of the mental link, before the man collected himself.

‘ _You do realise, I hope, that if you let yourself be discovered within Lucius’ presence, I will be forced to act accordingly? I won’t hold back on using magic then,’ the Dark Lord droned. ‘I shall not be seen as weak in the eyes of my subordinate at any cost._ ’

Harry shuddered, realising with dread that he didn’t have a choice: either he will loose his virginity to the horde of horny criminals or – his magic would be gone to the Dark Lord. In the first case, he still had hope to one day finish the war by defeating the Dark Lord, but, if he lost his magic, all hope for the peace in the Wizarding World would be forfeit.

He didn’t have too much time to dwell on this, though, as he was forcefully brought down onto the bed on all fours, with his skirt-covered arse up in the air in humiliating way, one of the brutes pinning his hands to the mattress and the other – already positioning himself behind, his meaty hands sliding up under the skirt and along the fishnet of the stockings towards his underpants. Which were **_not feminine_** , Harry realised with horror. If they discover this fact alone, he was almost certainly doomed!

‘ _I suggest you put up a fight,_ ’ drawled Voldemort. ‘ _It would at least buy us some time. Or you enrage them enough to rip you clothes to unrecogniseable shreds at least._ ’

Frankly, Harry already realised as much and was violently thrashing and kicking at the men holding him down (now there were two in front and one extra at his back, trying to catch his ankles). All of this was done in relative silence, as Harry didn’t dare cry out, only puffing and grunting in barely audible voice now and then.

“Argh, what a bitch – !” Harry’s right foot collided with somebody’s face with a distinguishable sound of their nose bone cracking.

And then Harry knew no more, as the huge cabbage-sized fist of the man he’d just wounded collided with his left temple and knocked him out senseless.

* * *

He was roughly woken up by a waterfall of icy-cold water drenching him from head to toe. With a feeling of deja-vu Harry tentatively tried to open up his left eye only to find that it refused to open. All of the left side of his face, including his temple and his eye, was in pain, his nose was numb, as if broken, as was his right wrist. His muscles were sore, but aside from that there was no tell-tale pain in his arse, for which he was grateful – the men must have stopped when he lost consciousness.

Even more carefully now Harry tried to open his right eye to peek at his surroundings. Or how he had wished to be back in Voldemort’s secret house, even back in ropes and with horny Dark Lord trying to either test him or curse him again! Instead Harry saw the same shabby bedroom of the smuggler’s house in which he passed out earlier. He was still on that same bed, though the room was almost empty now, aside from one man with an empty bucket in his hands. If Harry remembered correctly, this one didn’t participate in the rape attempt before, but he was not too certain: there had not been too much light in the room then, and still wasn’t, and Harry lost his glasses somewhere during his fight with rapists, and, beside, he now had only one working eye.

‘ _Potter, you’re alive there?_ ’ mental half-concerned jab from the Dark Lord only intensified Harry’s already present headache and brought a wave of strong nausea, the sense of which was strangely doubled and detached. ‘ _Ah, that would mine. I apologise,_ ’ Harry felt a mental wince at the other end of their connection. ‘ _Why so silent?_ ’

‘ _Sod off,_ ’ Harry grumbled. ‘ _My head hurts._ ’

‘ _Probably, concussion,_ ’ Voldemort deduced. ‘ _Did they kick you on the head?_ ’

‘ _Yeah,_ ’ Harry mumbled involuntarily. ‘ _So shuddup._ ’

The sense of nausea suddenly intensified after Harry felt a ghostly jolt of pain in his abdomen. At the same time he heard a rather loud yawl of pain, though muffled by the door a bit, and felt the echo of the same outcry through the mental link.

‘ _Fuck! That hurt! What’s with you?_ ’ Harry tried to reach Voldemort.

‘ _Ben learnt that myth,_ ’ somewhat cryptically responded Voldemort breathlessly.

‘ _What?_ ’

‘ _Necromancy,_ ’ explained the Dark Lord in clipped tone. ‘Seems, I’m bad actor.’

‘ _Is Lucius there?_ ’ Harry suddenly remembered with the feeling of panic. ‘ _’Cause he’s not here!_ ’

‘ _No Lucius,_ ’ Voldemort grunted. ‘ _Only red-heads._ ’

‘ _Hardly better,_ ’ Harry muttered darkly. ‘ _I’d say – even worse. They’re inventive._ ’

‘ _They’re busy. Trading with the leader._ ’ Voldemort slurred weakly. Again Harry felt several short jabs of pain from his end of the link.

‘ _What’s going on there?_ ’ Harry couldn’t help but be worried.

‘ _Nothing interesting,_ ’ despite the situation Voldemort snorted. ‘ _I’m their bloody punching bag for now – Argh!_ ’

Harry sensed another virtual punch and a new wave of strong nausea, multiplying his own tenfolds.

‘ _Bloody hell! – Hey – Hey, you alright?_ ’ After several calming breaths Harry called out. ‘ _Tom? Tom?! Tom, you hear me?! –_ ’

He now felt steady pulse of pain in his abdomen, the nausea was almost unbearable, as was headache. And he sensed no trace of Voldemort in his mind. At all. And this was quickly driving him into a fit of hysterical panic.

The man with the bucket chose this moment to approach him, and, before Harry knew it, his magic suddenly lashed out in blazingly hot surge, the bucket flew out of a man’s hands in a burst of flames with a loud booming sound of a bomb going off, the door behind a man flew off its hindges and burst aflame into a firework, its splinters going off in all directions like small fire projectiles and all hell broke loose.

He heard shouts of “Whitch! She is a bloody witch!”, “Put it off! Its burning my hand!” and “Shoot her!”, “Off him!”.

And then someone bellowed at the top of their lungs “Out! Everyone out! We’re on fire!!!”, turning it all into a madhouse, which was merrily lightened by a roraring fire, steadily spreading all around, black smoke quickly clouding all the possible exits, the unbearable heat from the wooden walls and furniture, cracking under leaks of flames, trying to knock out people, who already started running around, trying fruitlessly to find an escape out of the burning building.

Harry had leapt to his feet even before that, seconds after the fire had started. His legs were wobbly, head – spinning from dizziness and magical fatigue, he hardly saw anything with his only one good eye, but still went into the main room, the sound of his stiletto heels adding to the crazy cacophony which erupted around him in mere seconds. In this chaos it was almost impossible to find not only the door or window which were not blocked by the flames or smoke, but even navigate around. Several times already Harry came nose to nose with either Ben, who was still holding a loaded gun, or one of the rapists, who tried to jump him or knock him down, more possibly. And now he was facing Lucius, who just a second ago Apparated back right into the middle of this all after his suspicious absence. Malfoy cursed under his breath and dis-Apparated away. Harry dismissed the slimy coward immediately, and went to his right, thinking he saw a glimpse of a door there. Instead he suddenly came face to face with Ben again, but before the man registered him, Harry dodged off to the side, successfully loosing the armed brute in the smoke. Only to stumble upon roped Voldemort and almost knock him off the stool on which the later sat, or rather was tied to, his head lowered onto his chest, obviously unconscious.

“Shit!” Harry whispered and quickly moved away, trying to make as few sounds with his shoes as he could.

Surprisingly, he still managed to find the door wich was only partly blocked by a small bonfire. At that moment he felt enormous gratitude towards the guy who woke him with the use of a bucket of water, as his still somewhat wet clothes helped him escape the most severe burning, while they even managed to stay almost fully intact despite the whole ordeal.

He was awed, still, to find Lucius outside, directing the crowd of neighbours with water-filled buckets, hoses and the like, leading the fire-distinguishing process like a professional.

Harry quickly make himself scarce, again grateful for that blow to his face, which made him almost totally unrecogniseable.

He didn’t get too far, though, before he felt a weak tug inside his mind.

‘ _Someone promised to not run off, no?_ ’ Voldemort’s mental jab was quivering. ‘ _Or did you hope that I perish in that fire? Did you forget about my Horcruxes? Come hither._ ’

“Fuck!” Harry grumbled, but turned on his stillettos, silently cursing the blasted things, and went back to the burning building.

‘ _How did you manage to get out?_ ’ Harry inquired with interest.

‘ _Red-heads,_ ’ came short reply.

Harry stumbled, hearing this, at last breaking one of his heels on some piece of burnt wood which happened to get under his feet.

‘ _They don’t know who I am. Don’t you dare – ,_ ’ Voldemort’s threat was cut short by already familiar wave of nausea. ‘ _Sweet Morgana – Urgh – Don’t come yet –_ ’

‘ _What? –_ ’

‘ _Wait – where you are –_ ’ Another intense wave of sickness managed to drop Harry to his knees, when added to his own weakness and wobbly feet in high-heeled shoes (with one still broken to add insult to injury). After several long moments of simply breathing in and out to calm his own stomach, Harry stood back up and continued on his path towards the place, where he sensed Voldemort.

  


Going around the former house turned into bonfire, Harry at last came to a trully bizare sight: Voldemort was heavily leaning onto one of the Weasley twins, half-folded on himself, clutching his abdomen and dry-heaving, the ugly puddle of vomit mixed with blood under his feet. The other twin carefully tried to support the Dark Lord from the other side, the clumsy looking glass of water in his hand, held out towards Voldemort: “Here, have some water, mate.”

“Oh, here’s your girlfriend! See, she’s alright, too!” another twin exclaimed, pointing to the approaching Harry.

“I am no – ”

Harry was cut off by Voldemort, muttering inside their interlinked minds ‘ _You better play along,_ ’ and at the same time, as he slurred almost incomprehensively aloud “You’lright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled hoarsely, trying to make his voice higher, but faling and coughing instead from the smell of burning coming from the smoking remnants of the building.

“We better take you, guys, to our place,” one of the twins suggested and motioned towards the slowly subduing fire, “before they remembered who started all this.”

“I think Malfoy solves this for us, though,” the other twin retorted, “He can Obliviate them or even kill, for all I care,” he huffed. “They’re done with this business, anyway.” He smirked and hold a hand to Harry. “May I offer you a ride, miss?”

“A ride?” Harry blinked.

“Apparition,” the twin explained. “Don’t you know the thing?”

“Ah, of course,” Harry mumbled lowering his head and blushing in shame.

He sensed a weak laugh of Voldemort inside his mind.

“I’ll take you, mate,” the other twin offered, and as Vodlemort already was clinging to his arm like a lifeline, they promptly disappeared with a crack after the red-head turned on his heels.

“Don’t you worry, sweetie, we are right behind them,” Harry was promised, before they, too, Dis-Apparated away.

* * *

And that was how Harry found himself in even more bizare situation.

He was sitting on the couch in the Weasley twins flat above their joke shop on Diagon Alley, talking to George and Fred, while Voldemort was sleeping in their other room, probably bedroom, Hary mused.

Well, at first, after they Apparated here, the Dark Lord started vomiting again and Harry himself almost done the same, as Voldemort’s nausea leaking through their mental link only made things worse on his side: he’d never really felt for any of the means of magical tramsportation aside from the flights on the broom, and after all of the events of this long day the Apparation made him a bit dizzy and sick to his stomach. He managed to hold it down in the end with much diffficulty.

The twins fussled over Voldemort, tended to his most prominent injuries, as he seemed much worse for wear than Harry after the impromptu bonfire at the smuggler’s headquaters. When they finally put him to sleep (though reluctantly on his part), the twins turned to Harry. And then everything fell apart. Meaining, they healed his mild concussion and brusies on his face. After which he was enveloped in double bear-hug from both twins simultaneously, them roaring in unison “Harry, that’s you, mate! We were worried!!!”

Then George (or maybe Fred, it was hard to tell) naturally asked why Harry was in Muggle girl’s dress and Fred (or was it George, again?) interrupted with the question of where Harry disappeared to from the Ministry of Magic a month ago.

Harry gaped at that.

They’d been absent for a whole month?! For him it felt only a day or two at most, though with all these swooning it was hard to tell exactly, but that certainly didn’t feel like the whole bloody month!

While he was trying to come to terms with this information the twins inquired about the identity of his companion. Harry froze, the wheels in his head stopping with almost audible screech of brakes. But before he could come up with at least somewhat plausible lie, one of the twins was already suppling him with the possible explanation.

“Was it him? The one who helped you escape, I mean. From You-Know-Who’s hands. You were there, right?”

Harry nodded fervently several times.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you both were pretending to be a couple, no? Or are you two – ?”

Harry couldn’t help it, he blushed so violently, that he was afraid he’d burst from the heat creeping up his cheeks and going as far as to his ears’ tips, although still trying to shook his head in negative response.

The twins sniggered with a knowing look on their faces.

“We don’t blame you, mate!” One of them waved a hand off. “The guy’s hot as sin!”

“So, what d’you think, Forge, that’s alright then, if we tell him?” the other twin nudged his brother in the side. “About **_that_**.”

“Oh, **_that_**!” the other exclaimed. “Yeah, I suppose, Gred, he’s right to know **_that_**. Definitely!”

“Guys! Guys, what’s up?” Harry interrupted, nervous for some reason.

“Don’t worry, Harrikins, we won’t tell!” promised one of the twins, the other nodding in agreement and echoing “Won’t tell a soul!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry was trully afraid now. The facial expressions they wore were very suspicious, and these cryptic talks didn’t help matters.

“You’d better sit tight, mate,” one of the twins suggested threateningly, his tone serious all of a sudden. It was even scarier coming from ever-cheerful red-head than it could be from anyone else.

Harry gulped, flattening himself against the back of the sofa he was sitting at.

“It’s best if you saw for yourself, Harry,” the other twin said, his tone, too, going thick with undecipherable felling, and held out a shimmering scroll.

“Wh-what’s that?” not trusting the twins not to pull some ultimate joke of the centrury on him, Harry didn’t rush to touch the scroll.

“That won’t do, Fred,” George muttered darkly. “He won’t believe us like this.”

Fred hummed in thought.

“Right, I imagine no one in their right mind would,” his smile was crooked. “Though I still think he needs to know, but – ” he trailed off pensively.

“Hey, guys, I’m still here, you know,” Harry waved a hand. “Don’t talk over my head, like I am a bloody kid!”

“Won’t do,” George muttered again. Then his face lit up. “I think I know!”

And before either Fred or Harry could even open their mouths, George Dis-Apparated.

“Hey, Fred, what’s going on?” Harry tried.

Fred just shook his head.

“He is right, you need to know, but better not from us,” he told. “I’d never believe myself in this, too!” he snorted. “I hope he won’t be too long, though,” Fred added. “We are all tired and tomorrow, I am afraid, will be even more eventful.”

“No need to worry, brother!” George chirped, Apparating back in, Lucius Malfoy hot on his heels.

Fred tried to shield Harry from view while simultaneously hitting his twin on the head.

“Are you out of your mind, George?!” he exclaimed, pointing towards Malfoy. “You do know, that you have a bloody tail, don’t you?!”

“Yes, oh brother mine, I do know this!” George responded in kind. “As you probably see he is wearing blindfold at this moment, and not just **_any_** blindfold for that matter, but one of my own invention, you know **_the one_** ,” he wiggled his brows meaningfully.

Fred let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, muttering “Idiot!” under his breath.

“Just a moment, Mr. Malfoy,” George promised, then came up to Harry and with quick motions rightened his outfit, the wig included, then bended down to him and muttered into his ear almost inaudibly “Only the girl part was disguise. Play along.” Then George proceeded back to Malfoy and removed the blindfold from his eyes. “Sorry about that, Mr. Malfoy, but I hope you understand, that we need to be cautious.”

Malfoy nodded almost regally.

“Naturally. So what was that small favour you’ve asked me of?”

“Well,” George sighed. “You see, we have certain reputation, not that we don’t like it in general, but right now it does not help to be seen as pranksters and jokers, when there is important information we need to share.”

Fred huffed in annoyance and brought a hand to his twin’s mouth, shutting him up, then interjected:  
“What my brother is trying to say, is that we need to tell of something serious but are afraid that we would not be believed. I understand that my brother brought you here to relay that information in our stead.”

Malfoy hummed and raised an inquiring brow.

“And what that might be?”

“Our friend here needs to learn the result of the diagnostic spell performed on our other guest. Usually such matters are confidential, of course, but this matter is concerning both of them, so – ” he motioned towards the door to the other room. “Shall we? I hope you know how to cast the spell?”

“I’ve already confirmed that,” grumbled George. “It’s the Diagnozicum one, Mr. Malfoy. I asked you about it just now,” he clarified. Then turned to Harry and ushered him to tag along, “You’d better come with us to watch, too, so there won’t be any misunderstandings later.”

Frowning, Harry complied and went with the other three into the next room, where he saw Voldemort sprawled on the bed with his eyes closed, either sleeping or unconscious.

George looked at Malfoy and motioned towards the bed: “Here.”

Malfoy, who at that moment suddenly acquired the nervous tick under his right eye, pursed his lips and with a nod finally brought out his wand, then swished it in a complicated pattern while uttering the necessary incantation of “Diagnozicum Revelio Maxima”.

Bright lime-green beam sprang out of the tip of his wand, washing the form, lying on the bed, in shimmering glow momentarily, then assimilated into a ghostly cloud above the bedridden man. The cloud formed into a distinguishable shape of the scroll, similar to the one Harry had been offered to look at earlier. The scroll became more solid after several seconds, hovered above the sleeping man for a moment and finally landed on the blanket he was covered with a soft rustling of parchment, still emitting the soft glow and shimmer.

“It is safe to take it now,” Malfoy clarified, watching the sleeping man warily, and hid his wand.

Harry eyed the rolled-up parchment on the blanket with suspicion evident in his features.

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly and hold out the hand to pick the scroll up.

“Shall I have the honors?” he raised a brow.

“Please,” muttered Harry, his eyes never leaving Malfoy’s wand hand.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, that’s ridiculous!” George exclaimed. “Do you think **_us three_** can conspire against **_you_**?!” He huffed. “Pick the damn thing up for yourself so that you won’t pin it on us later on!”

Harry made a grimace, but carefully touched the scroll with his fingertips. When nothing happened, he picked it up in honest and unfolded the parchment.

The reason behind this all charade became obvious pretty quickly after his eyes scanned the not very long list of vitals and injuries and came upon the single line at the very bottom.

Dropping the parchment back on the bed, Harry threw his head back and let out a sardonic bark of laugh. Immediately followed by a whole string of hysterical giggles and guffaws of merriment, tears strimming down his cheeks from all the mirth.

“I suspected something like thi-is!” he managed to issue in between his laughs and sobs of hysteria. “No fucking way he belie-eves i-it!!” he started hiccuping from laughing so hard. “That’s bloody hilario-ous!!!”

“What’s got into your friend?” Malfoy inquired mildly from the two frowning red-heads.

“I didn’t anticipate this reaction,” muttered Fred.

“Neither did I,” George agreed. “That’s just hysteria, I suppose.”

“Right,” Fred nodded, then raised a brow, “Do we have some Calmning Draught here, bro?”

“Nope,” the other twin shook his head. “We’ve ran out awhile ago.”

“That’s bad,” not moving a muscle to calm his friend, muttered Fred.

After almost full five minutes of laghing, though, one of the twins at last took out a wand and simply casted an “Aguamenti” on Harry, successfully stopping the hysterical giggles.

“Argh! I hate that spell!” Harry exclaimed, once again drenched from head to toe in icy-cold water.

Malfoy raised an unimpressed brow at that, while the twins smiled sheepishly.

“So, umm, are you okay with this, mate?” Fred asked Harry after a long pause, motioning towards the sleeping man on the bed and the scroll, lying at his feet.

Harry shrugged.

“I didn’t know that was possible, you know, even with magic and all. Though, come to think of it, I did really expected something like this, what’s with his symptoms and your melodrama just now,” he smirked.

Malfoy pointed towards the half-opened scroll and issued the tentative “May I?” looking first at Harry, then on each of the twins in turn.

Harry shrugged and huffed.

“Yes you may. Anyway, it was your spell and he is – ” he cut himself off, wincing. “Oh, just go ahead!” he grumbled, waiving his hand towards the scroll.

Malfoy carefully picked up the parchment and peeked inside it with curiousity. He pulled a long face almost immediately, when his eyes fell on the most vital part of the diagnosis.

“That’s – That’s highly rare!” he breathed out in surprise. “The only question is, how this young lady is concerned?” he looked at Harry pointedly.

“’m not a ‘ ** _lady_** ’!” Harry huffed. “That’s disguise,” he grumbled, tugging on the long blond lock, which fell into his eyes right then.

Before he could explain himself further though, Malfoy squinted his eyes and closed the distance between them to scrutinise Harry’s face better.

Harry gulped.

Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock.

“Potter?!” he murmurred in disbelief.

Harry yelped and jumped away from him, rushing to get his wand out, though he doubted he had an ounce of magic left in him for anything even as light as “Wingardium Leviosa”.

Instead of assaulting him, though, Malfoy only raised his hands in surrender and shook his head.

“Mr. Potter, you do not need to fear, I shall not attack you in any way.”

“Huh?”

“First, I had the mutual agreement with these gentlemen not to harm a person when on their territory. Also we share business, and you fall under their notion of ‘close friensds and family to whom no harm can come by my hand directly or by proxy’, if I remember this clause of the contract correctly. And lastly this predicament,” he motioned towards the scroll and the man on the bed, “makes you the untouchable by any and all due to a rare occurrence of such a case in our society in general, and due to the sacred nature of it, too. Not even counting both of your identities,” his nervous tick returned for a moment.

“Hold on!” Harry raised a hand up. “What do you mean ‘share business’?!”

“That’s hardly matters right now, Harry,” George muttered.

Harry huffed and shook his head.

“You’re something, guys!” he smirked. “Though, I hardly blame you. That bloody feud of yours was a stupid thing!”

“So, Mr. Potter, shall I congratulate you on the matter?” Malfoy inqured with a mild smirk.

Harry only glared in response.

“Now, now, no need to be so impolite, Harrikins,” one of the twins chastised him. “I am sure, Mr. Malfoy meant well,” he smiled.

“Don’t want to hear it from bloody Malfoy,” he grumbled. “What should I do now, though? Cart him to St. Mungo?” he pointed to the sleeping form on the bed.

“I don’t think it is neccesary at this stage,” mused Malfoy. “If there won’t be complications, he may evade the hospital all toghether, though I suggest to organise a safe place for both of you and a private Healer for him anyway. I would offer my own home for this purpose, though I doubt you’ll agree,” he frowned.

Harry let out a long tired sigh.

“I think we’d better sleep this over and then think on the issue some more,” he mumbled. “And anyway my word would hardly matter here. He’s too stubborn for his own good,” he winced. Then took the scroll back into his hands and looked at it again, eyes immediately falling on the most disturbing point of the diagnosis:

  


**_“Pregnant, five weeks”._ **


	8. ~VII~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! It seems I'm making a bad tradition of forgetting to put up new chaps I've written >.<  
> I'm sorry, and I've brought two parts instead of one as compensation :p  
> To my excuse I managed to become a seer of sorts - when I started to actively write mpreg stories my sister got pregnant and about a month ago gave birth to a wonderful boy!♥_♥  
>  Hence I was even more overwhelmed with RL than before, forgetting about posting newly written ready chapters once again (I'm remembering I've wanted to do just that on the eve of my nephew's birthday).  
> Life is still hectic, but I am not going to totally abandon any of my stories, don't worry. Hopefully, in near future I'd have a bit of time to write (and post).  
> Enjoy!

In the end neither Harry, nor the twins went to beds early, and Malfoy also remained on the premises, all of them sitting at the kitchen table for a long discussion of their future plans.

“So, Mr. Potter, I recon you are not going to abandon my Lord now in view of the current affair?” Malfoy inquired.

Harry shuffled in his seat uncomfortably.

“You’d recognised him, then?” he mumbled.

The Weasleys meanwhile looked at each of them in turn with wide eyes, before simultaneously looking back at the now closed door to the bedroom.

“That’s the Dark Lord in there?!” one of the twins pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the bedroom door. “Blimey, Harry, that’s wicked!”

Harry shook his head tiredly.

“I hoped this won’t come out like this,” he muttered. “Thank you, Lucius,” he drawled drily with a pointed glare towards Malfoy. Then turned to the twins, “Are you going to squeak on him now? Turn him to the Order?”

“Of course, no, Harry! That’s just too hilarious! ‘The Boy-Who-Lived knocked up the bloody Dark Lord!’ The Minister and Dumbledore would have a field day with this!” One of the red-heads exclaimed.

“Don’t you dare – !” started Harry in unison with Malfoy.

“Calm down!” the other red-head raised his hands in placating gesture. “We’ve said we won’t talk of it to anyone! That’s a promise!”

“I’d like to see **_his_** face, though,” his twin mused, smirking, “when he sees the diagnosis,” he snickered.

Harry let out an unamused and strained laugh.

“We’d probably get a Crucio for our efforts, though,” Malfoy admitted. “He’s not known for his patience and calmness. And does not take kindly to peeking into his personal affairs.”

Harry winced.

“I hope he remembers our other problem, before getting his hands on a wand,” he muttered darkly.

“What other problem?” chirped one of the twins curiously.

“I’m not telling,” Harry mumbled, sending a look at Malfoy. “He won’t be pleased as it is, he doesn’t need another reason to Crucio me.” He sighed. “Even if it won’t work again, as usual,” Harry added in an undertone.

“I still insist you should move to my place as soon as he wakes up,” Malfoy interjected. “This place is too unguarded. And is frequented by those, who certainly won’t hold on offensive spells just because of this,” Malfoy poked at the rolled-up scroll, lying on the table in front of them, with his finger.

Harry chewed on his lip minutely, his expression pensive, before suddenly straightening his back up and looking at Malfoy questioningly.

“Say, Malfoy, do you have a Healer among your ranks, per chance?”

“Yes, we do, actually. Why?” Lucius inqured.

“Well, there’s this place we can stay at. But I doubt he’d be pleased with us if we bring a random St. Mungo’s worker over there. On the other hand, if it was the Healer he trusts, though – ” Harry was interrupted by Malfoy shaking head.

“He does not trust anyone in these matters, I am afraid. Not with his own health. That will not work.”

Harry rubbed his face with his hands tiredly.

“Bloody paranoic!” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Then I am out of ideas. We certainly need a Healer for his ‘little problem’, at the very least. And there is another pressing matter, for which a specialist would be nice to have around, too.” Harry frowned in thought. “Though, come to think of it, these issues can very well be related to one another,” he mumbled under his nose. “Hey, Malfoy! And you, guys, too, where can I find books, or anything, on the male pregnancies?”

“I am not very sure,” mused Lucius, “Maybe, we have a one or two books in the family library at the Manor, but it is highly unlikely that they have anything in your usual bookstore at Diagon Alley, or even in Knocturn,” he admitted. “It is trully very rare even among our kind.”

Harry winced.

“Thought so,” he grumbled. “Then what should I do? I can’t allow him to kill the Healer simply for his help, even if the guy is a Death Eater. But – ”

“So, Mr. Potter, are you inclined to help my Lord in this endeavor?” Lucius inquired with surprise.

“Yeah, Harry, it seems, you’ve taken this all too close to heart, no?” Fred asked. “Why do you care so much?”

“What’s wrong with helping a bearer of your child?!” Harry huffed.

“That’s the Dark Lord we’re talking about, bro,” George contradicted. “The very same man, who’d murdered your parents and lots of other people!”

“Point? He is still a ‘mother’, so to speak. Of **_my_** child, I repeat!” Harry retorted with passion.

“Fine, fine, don’t you start on us, mate!” Fred threw his arms in the air. “It’s just surprising, that’s all. We’d help. Right, George?” he turned to his twin, who nodded fervently.

“Yeah! If only to see his face when he learns of this all,” he smirked.

“What about you, Malfoy?” Harry turned a heated glare at Lucius. “Are you in?”

“I believe, I had been for a long time already,” with a mild smirk of his own replied Lucius. “And I had already earned myself a round of Crucio over the Diagnostic Spell, anyway, so it is too late to back out now,” he added with a slight grimace of displeasure.

“So, back to business,” Harry clasped his hands to get the attention of the other three persons at the table. “Where do we start looking for information?” There was a sudden knock at the front door, startling all of them. “Are you expecting anyone?” Harry looked at the twins, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

They both shook their heads agitadely.

“No!” Fred replied, while George went to answer the door.

He returned to the kitchen almost immediately, accompanied by none other then Remus Lupin, who widened his eyes in shock upon seeing the surprising combination of people sitting at the kitchen table.

“Harry! We’ve searched high and low for you! Where have you been all this time? And what is Lucius Malfoy doing here?” His wand was out in a heartbeat, pointed at Lucius.

Harry groaned and tried to slide from his chair on the floor and under the table.

“Just what wee need!” he muttered annoyed under his breath. “Hello, Remus! Please, don’t curse Malfoy, I still need him intact,” he pleaded. “At least let me explain some,” he added, as Lupin didn’t immediately hide his wand.

“How do I know you’re really Harry Potter?” the werwolf narrowed his eyes.

Harry shook his head.

“You don’t. And I suppose these clothes don’t help either,” he yanked on the sleeve of the woman’s blouse he was still wearing and shuffled his foot to demonstrate the skirt and half-torn stockings. “You can ask me something only I can know,” he suggested.

“Fine,” Lupin grumbled. “What form is yours if mine is a full moon?” he suggested cryptically.

Harry looked up in thought, trying to decipher the code, than his face has brightened:  
“For me it’s the essence of the thing!”

Lupin furrowed his brows, then raised one in silent question.

Harry motioned towards Malfoy with a pointed look.

“What? I am not admitting the thing in front of a potential opponent, Moony! We may be allies of sort for now,” he added in reply to the hurt look on Malfoy’s face, “but this can change in a blink of an eye, Mr. Malfoy, or in a wave of that wand,” here Harry pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, towards the closed door to the bedroom. “So, Remus, you can sit and listen to my story, or conduct your business here and leave,” he grumbled.

“Aren’t you a touchy one?” Malfoy drawled with a smirk.

Harry just scowled at him and returned his gaze to Lupin, who still stood couple of feet from the table, looking in turns at Harry, Malfoy and the closed door with suspicion.

“Who’s in there?” he asked quietly, finally approaching the table, and pointed towards the bedroom.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Harry let out a long breath. “Would you mind if I’d hold onto your wand for a while?”

Lupin shook his head.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I am taking Lucius’ wand, too, by the way,” saying this, Harry held out his hand to Malfoy, palm up, “Please, can you trust me in this? Both of you?”

When neither Remus, nor Lucius surrendered their wands, Harry let out a frustrating growl.

“Fine, but then I’m putting myself on the line of the potential fire,” he snapped, moving his chair into the position between Remus and the bedroom door. “And secondly, before you start asking questions, look here, please!” He took the scroll with diagnoosis off the table and slightly opened it, showing the most important part to Remus. The werwolf scanned the line he was offered to look at: ‘Pregnant, five weeks’ and raised his questioning gaze at Harry.

“I am one of the parents,” Harry confirmed, not elaborating on the matter, and reclined back in his chair, the scroll tightly rolled up and clutched in his fist. “The other parent is in that room, unconscious after some troubles we’ve run into. The second parent belongs to the other side, as you’ve probably already understood. Before you ask, none of us was against the act itself, though we’d not anticipated this outcome.”

“Judging by these precautions one might think you hide a Dark Lord behind that door,” Remus snorted. His amusement was cut short by Harry’s pointed glare and a nod of confirmation. “What?! You seriously have the Dark Lord in your bedroom?!” Remus exclaimed.

Harry winced.

“You may want to lower your voice a bit, Moony. You possibly just woke him.” Harry grimaced. “I don’t think any one of us would be glad if that was the case. We don’t need the Dark Lord in a pissy mood, while there is no place to fight or hide. Especially, given the circumstances.” He waved a scroll with the diagnosis with a pointed look.

“Sorry,” Remus mumbled almost sheepishly in a lower tone. “That’s all just too – ” he shook his head at a loss for words.

“Wild?” Harry suggested with a hint of a tired smile and slightly swayed on his chair.

“Hey, Harry,” one of the twins interrupted, “looks like you need that bed, too, mate. I’d say we leave the talks for the morning. What d’ya think?”

Harry just shook his head stubbornly.

“Harry,” Remus chastised him in a mild tone, “George is right, you look like you need the rest.”

“You wand, Moony.”

“Alright, I promise not to attack **_him_** but – ”

“No ‘buts’, Remus. Either you surender your wand or I am staying guard like this,” Harry muttered. “And yours’, Lucius. Pardon me, but you have that agreement with the twins, not me. I cannot simply trust you after only half-hour of peaceful talking. And I doubt the Dark Lord trusts anyone at all,” he added.

Malfoy just nodded with an understanding look and taking out his wand from his customary place in a cane held it out to Harry handle first.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured and looked with anticipation at Lupin. “Moony?”

“Fine,” the latter sighed and also produced his wand to Harry. “Here you go. I won’t say I like it, but have it your way for now. You really need to rest, Harry.”

Grabbing both wands in one hand and a still clutching a diagnoosis scroll in another, Harry retired to the bedroom to the still unconscious Dark Lord, after murmuring short ‘good night’ to others.

* * *

Harry was planning on keeping watch, while the Dark Lord slept, but instead he fell asleep, too, the moment his head touched the pillow.

He was woken from his deep slumber by a familiar drawl of “What do you have here?” and a feeling of other’s fingers trying to pry open his palm, wich was tightly clutching the scroll. His other hand with a bunch of wands was safe for a while, as he held it under the pillow.

“Don’t,” Harry slurred still half asleep.

“You do not order me around, boy!” Voldemort snapped. “Give it here right this instant!”

“Are you sure?” Harry snorted with a raised brow, looking suddenly very awake, and shoved the rolled up scroll into the waiting hand of Voldemort. “Here.”

“What’s this?” turning suspicious, asked Voldemort, his brows furrowing.

“It’s yours anyway, you can have it,” Harry retored in dismissal, shrugging his shoulders.

Still frowning pensively, Voldemort opened the scroll and trew a glance inside, then raised his eyes back at Harry:  
“What is this?” he repeated his earlier question.

“Diagnostic spell, or rather the results scroll,” Harry replied with a hint of amusement. “Yours.”

“What?!” Voldemort exclaimed afronted. “Who dared – ?!”

“The twins. In their defence, they didn’t know your identity and only wanted to help, when you passed out.”

“I do not – ”

“You did, too. Don’t deny it, but better look carefully,” Harry advised with a straight face, only the slight twitch under his right eye betraying his emotions.

“What could be so – ?” Voldemort started, “What is this nonsence?!” he roared, when his eyes fell on the line at the very bottom. Next moment his hands went for Harry’s throat, scroll falling on the bed between them, forgotten. “Are you playing me, boy?!” He thrashed Harry roughly by the throat, his hold tightening painfully.

With a strangled gasp Harry tried to break free, scratching Voldemort’s palms with his free hand and involuntarily demonstrated his wand bouquet, when tried to use the other hand to wrestle the Dark Lord’s grasp.

“Give them here!” Voldemort barked, grabbing the wands and pointing them toghether with his own at Harry. “Crucio!!!”

In a heartbeat he let out a loud outcry of pain, echoed by Harry’s own, doubled over and collapsed on top of him, clutching his stomach with both hands.

Harry tried to hold onto his own sliding consciousness, but a second later blackness was engulfing him after a new wave of pain, transmitted through mental link from Voldemort, and a feeling of enourmous amount of magic, taken from his core with such violence against his will.

  


Some time later Harry woke to the feeling of stinging pain in his cheek, the second rough slap to his other cheek delivered immediately after the first.

“Explain to me this madness right now!” Voldemort ordered harshly, his eyes narrowed and wand digging painfully into Harry’s windpipe, which was still sore after their earlier confrontation.

“Wh-what madness?” Harry coughed out in scratchy voice.

“This!” Voldemort shook the scroll infront of Harry’s face. “That is not possible!”

“Not my problem!” Harry responded rudely, “You want explanations? Go find them yourself!” He shoved Voldemort, who was towering over him, in the chest, succesfully dropping the man onto his back, and crawled on top. “Just for your information, Lucius is here, too, and he also knows. As is Remus. These are their wands, by the way. I suggest you return them to me before you loose us our magic completely,” Harry wrestled the wands from the Dark lord without much trouble, as the man fell very silent and very subdued all of a sudden, and was simply looking up at Harry with widely opened eyes, his pupils blowing bigger and bigger with every second. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Harry exclaimed, seeing where it all went. “You’re not going emotional on me!”

The Dark Lord grasped a big gulp of air, shock slowly creeping into his features, his breathing quickening to the frightening speed from a panic attack.

“Hey!” Harry called out. “Are you with me?” Voldemort’s eyes rolled up and he passed out with a quiet sigh. “Shit!” Harry swore. Threw a desperate look towards the closed door, then looked back at Voldemort: the man was still white as Death, his breathing was hardly noticeable, and he showed no signs of consciousness. “Bloody hell!” Harry shook his head in exasperation. “I’m so regretting it later,” he muttered, then bent over Voldemort’s face after taking in as much air as his lungs allowed, and pressing his mouth to the Dark Lord’s in attempt to artificially resuscitate him. The first try was unsuccessful, but the second time Voldemort made a half-hearted intake of air from Harry’s mouth, and after the third try he was finally breathing again and glaring a hole in Harry’s forehead with a pointed look.

“Please, say it was all a stupid joke of your imbecile red-headed friends?” the Dark Lord pleaded seriously.

“Unfortunately, it was not,” Harry returned, wincing simpathetically. “They even went to such lengths as bringing Mafloy here to perform a second scan, so I would believe them.”

“Here – where?”

“Their place. Probably, flat above their shop in Diagon, but I am not sure. Never had the chance to look out the window,” Harry replied, shrugging. “Are you done panicking?”

“I don’t do panics,” Voldemort retorted immediately.

“Tell it to someone else,” Harry snorted. “You fainted, for goodness sake!”

“Who wouldn’t?” the Dark Lord responded darkly.

“True,” Harry nodded. “I almost did myself, when saw the scan results,” he admitted. “Oh, and I hadn’t told Remus yet who of us is the mother, so to speak. So don’t blow my story up, please.”

“Why?”

“So he wouldn’t try to coax me into killing your weak self, you moron!” Harry huffed. “Not that he’d succeed, mind you, but he’d nag at me until I boot him out, for sure. And we need all the help and brains we can get!”

“We don’t need a dirty wolf sniffing out our secrets,” Voldemort grimaced and received a half-baked smack on the head from Harry.

“He is not a dirty woolf, he’s my godfather!”

“I thought that was Black,” Voldemort commented.

“Technically, yes, but Remus is a honorary second godfather. Nevermind!” Harry waved a hand. “Now give me your wand!”

“Whatever for?”

“For safekeeping, you twit! As if I don’t know you! The moment that door opens you’d be giving out torture curses like cookies, forgetting all our problems at the sight of ‘blood-traitors’, ‘dirty wolf’ and your ‘imbecile’ right-hand man!” Harry tried to wrestle Voldemort’s wand from his tightly clenched fist, slowly prying open his fingers, one by one, while speaking. “Aha!” he exclaimed triumphantly at last, wriggling the last finger and snatching the bone-white wand. “Anyway, there is no magic left for your entertainment,” he informed the Dark Lord sourly. “Your last Crucio left me dry to the core,” Harry scrunched his nose in discomfort, “It even burned something fierce for a while,” he admitted.

“And how do you feel now?” Voldemort inquired with a hint of an interest.

“Sore. And bloody thirsty, so let’s go greet everyone,” Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet and yanking Voldemort by the hand to follow him. “Whoa!” he caught the taller man, when he swayed on unsteady feet. “Sorry,” Harry chirped, “Here,” he brought Voldemort’s hand around his shoulders for support, “Hold onto me, I’ll help you,” he offered.

Voldemort huffed and straightened his back stubbornly, removing his hand.

“I’ll manage myself, thank you,” he drawled, grimacing. “I am not an invalid.”

“No, you’re not, but allow me,” Harry insisted, “You’re still my child’s mother,” he muttered under his breath.

Voldemort shuddered.

“Do not say it like this,” he gritted, his face turning slightly green in color.

“Fine-fine, sorry,” Harry murmured. “Let us go already, hm?” he motioned towards the door.

* * *

When Harry and Voldemort went out of the bedroom they came upon rather disturbing sight of Weasley twins, Malfoy Sr., Lupin and, surprisingly Hermione Granger, all peacefully drinking tea and talking in hushed voices.

“Harry!” Hermione immediately lept to her feet and rushed to him, enveloping Harry in a bear-hug. “You’re alive! I was so worried! I didn’t believe the twins, when they said you’ve returned!” She sniffed, then reclined back, not releasing her hold on Harry’s shoulders. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, ‘Mione, I am fine,” Harry tried to interrupt her. “But I really appreciate a cup of tea, too, if don’t mind. Really thirsty for some reason,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I am just so glad,” Hermione ushered him towards the table, “I’ll make you tea, Harry!” Then her gaze fell on Voldemort. “And you’re – ?” She looked at the Dark Lord with a frown, unasked question in her eyes.

“That’s Tom,” Harry butted in. “Don’t mind him, better tell me, how you ended up here suddenly,” he suggested. “I never took you for the twin’s joke stuff fan – ” he raised a curious brow.

“Oh, George just brought me here about half-hour ago. Woke me in the middle of night and gave my parents a real scare, this moron!” Hermione pursed her lips. “I almost cursed him, too. If not for the possible letter from the Ministry – !” she shook her head and send a pointed look to one of the twins. “Are you sure, you’re altight, though, Harry?” she scrutinised him thoroughly. “You look like shit. And those bruises – ” she made a sharp turn on her heels towards Voldemort. “Are those your fingers, mister?!” her wand was in the Dark Lord’s face immediately. “Don’t you dare say, that they are! I’d curse you from here to the Moon, if that’s the case!” Hermione narrowed her eyes threateningly, slightly poking the Dark Lord’s nose with her wand with each word. “That’s not how you treat your dear ones!”

The last phrase threw Harry into hysterical laughing fit, succesfully distracting furious Hermione from the equally irked up Dark Lord.

“What’s so funny, Harry Potter?! I am protecting you, by the way, and you laugh?!” Hermione looked offended.

“Sorry,” hiccuping from laughter, managed Harry. “It’s just that phrase – ” his mirth returned full force, “the smugglers – ” he groaned, pointedly looking at twins and Malfoy in turn.

One of the red-heads snorted, clearly remembering the scene from earlier, although Malfoy was looking at Harry worriedly, and the other twin was frowning and shaking his head disapprovingly.

“What smugglers?” it was Hermione’s turn to frown and look at Harry with worry.

“Long story,” Harry breathed out, trying to calm down, “Tea, please?” he forced out in between his slowly receeding laughs.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Hermione shuffled to the kitchen area. “So, the bruises?” she reminded.

“It was accidental,” Harry muttered.

“How this can be accidental? It definitely looks like you were strangled!” Hermione brought Harry his cup and returned to the counter to prepare tea for Voldemort.

“Don’t spit in his cup,” Harry pleaded half-jokingly. “He might choke on muggle-born saliva,” he snickered, but quickly turned to Voldemort. “Don’t you dare curse her!”

“I was not going to,” the Dark Lord gritted.

“I’ve felt that wandless try,” Harry muttered in an undertone. “Tone it down, will you? I’ve said I’m spent dry,” he hissed lowly. Then turned to the twins, “George, why did you bring Hermione here?”

“She is good at research?” George suggested with a nervous wave of his hands. “I just thought she might help, you know. The books, all the stuff. And she is the girl, too,” with a meaningful look added George.

“So?” Harry blinked in surprise. “How can that help?”

George shifted his gaze to the side, where the Dark Lord stood, and cleared his throat pointedly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief:  
“Her help him?” he mouthed, after made sure none of the discussed persons saw his face.

George nodded fervently.

Harry brought a finger to his temple and knocked on it in a clear doubt of George’s mental health.

The twin shrugged and lowered his own head sheepishly.

Harry sighed and shook his head, then went up to the table and plopped on the empty chair in front of the cup Hermione poured him.

“Sit, please,” he looked up at the Dark Lord. “They won’t bite.”

“Not today,” agreed Lupin with unamused smile and a nod. “I guess those were the reaction to the news?” he pointed to Harry’s bruised throat.

“Aha,” Harry sipped at his tea carefully.

“I expected something more – violent, I suppose,” Remus admitted.

Harry smirked crookedly.

“He attempted that, too,” he admitted, not elaborating further.

“Attempted?” Malfoy raised a brow in surprise.

“Not mine story to tell,” Harry muttered and sipped more of his tea.

“What are those news you’re laking about?” Hermione interjected curiosly.

“Not mine story, again,” Harry repeated. “Not sure I won’t be strangled for my efforts,” he scoffed and sent a meaningful look Voldemort’s way.

Hermione huffed.

“If you want my assistance I need to know how I can help you,” she said. “So start talking. Both of you,” she turned to the Dark Lord. “You, mister, better have a very good explanation, seeing as harry refuses to cooperate.”

“I don’t need your ‘assistance’,” with a grimace of distaste drawled Voldemort. “I am perfectly capable myse– ”

“No, you are clearly not!” Harry interrupted him angrily. “All you do is curse and manhadle me! I can very well toss you out on the street and be done with you! You do realise, I hope, that I can manage even with our little problem, but I am certain you would not! So I suggest you stop threatening and insinuating anything and start really cooperate, like Hermione said just now!” He shook his head and tiredly closed his eyes for a brief moment. ‘ _If I had even an ounce of magic left in me I’d be throwing a fit right now as well,_ ’ he added mentally. ‘ _But you don’t see me blowing a casket, do you? So would you stop fighting and start helping our **common** case?_ ’

Voldemort just glared at him angrilly, but finally sat at the offered chair and even moved the cup with tea closer to himself, looking at it in contemplation.

“I am sorry,” he suddenly let out quietly, seemingly surprised by his own words. “That’s just nerves, I suppose, and shock, too,” he admitted even quieter, lowering his head as if trying to drown in his cup of tea.

“There is chamomile and mint in there,” Hermione supplied, frowning, and motioned towards his cup. “I’d thought they’d be appropriate for the case.”

“Thank you,” now surprise was written not only on Voldemort’s face, but on the others’, as well.

Harry snorted, seeing their looks. ‘ _I suggest you talk before either of them collapses from shock,_ ’ Harry quipped inside their minds. ‘ _Lucius certainly looks like he’d faint any minute._ ’

“You know, Harry, that’s rude to discuss those present behind their backs,” Voldemort chastised him in mild tone. “Can you return Lucius his wand for a moment, please?”

“Why?” Harry tensed immediately.

“He shall perform the necessary secrecy spells and such,” Voldemort explained calmly.

“Hermione here can do those perfectly well,” Harry offered. “I am not giving the highly ranked Death Eater his wand in yur presence.” His posture remained tense.

Voldemort sighed:  
“Oh, very well. Ms. Granger, will you, please, perform a necessary spell?” he gritted through his teeth.

“Of what spells we are talking about?” Hermione clarified. “I am not doing anything illegal or dark!”

“Nothing of the nature, I assure you. You should know, I hope, the necessary incantations for Unbreakable Vow and Secrecy Veil?” Voldemort raised an unimpressed brow at Hermione’s affronted huff. “You are welcome to show your skills, then,” he made a reluctant inviting gesture.

“I understand the necessity of the Secrecy Veil, but Unbreakable Vow – ?” Hermione trailed unsure.

“All of those present, bar me and Harry, shall come into magical contract peraining keeping certain information from reaching certain individuals as well as broad magical masses,” the Dark Lord explained.

“Why not you and Harry, too?” Remus interrupted along with Hermione’s nod of support of his question.

“I hardly think that either myself or Mr. Potter here would endanger ourselves in such a way. I have no death wish, and, I believe, Harry has neither,” Voldemort responded with a shrug. “So, Ms. Granger, please – ?” he motioned to her wand, now out in the open.

“Fine,” she winced. “How should I word the Vow exactly?”

“All of you shall vow not to release the information you hear here today from me or Mr. Potter to anyone beyond those present during this conversation, namely, Messirs Fred and George Weasleys, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Remus Lupin and you, Ms. Hermione Granger, cannot discuss this conversation and anything peraining to it with anyone else, except for aforementioned Messirs Weasleys, Mr. Malfoy Sr., Mr. Lupin, Ms. Granger, Mr. Harry Potter and me, Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort.”

Hermione blanched, hearing the tail of the Vow, but nevertheless waved her wand in a complicated pattern, encircling all of them and spoke the necessary incantation in a shaky voice, ending it with the recital of the vow and the customary phrase: “So mote it be”, repeated by others after her.

Harry added his own words to the chorus, as did Voldemort, and felt a tiny surge of magic spalshing from his core in attempt to add to the spell, followed by the second miniscule spark going to the Dark Lord. Harry swayed slightly in his chair and clutched the table edge to steady himself. Voldemort gasped lowly and became white as sheet, certainly also feelling the spark of Harry’s magic bypassing his system and going into the spell for the Vow in the Dark Lord’s stead.

“And now explain!” in a tense, though still shaky voice ordered Hermione, her wand pointing exactly into the center of Voldemort’s forehead and not quivering even a notch, even if her other hand was trembling when she motioned for Harry to talk.

Harry sighed and rubbed his face.

“Deja-vu,” he muttered under his nose. “Oh, very well!” he stood and went back to the bedroom to retrieve the scroll. “Here,” he muttered, tossing it in front of Hermione, “bottom line.”

Hermione quickly read the thing over, not missing a word of the diagnosis, until she finally reached the most important part and looked up at Harry with a blank stare: “Whose is this?”

“His,” Harry pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the Dark Lord. “We’ve ran into Albanian smugglers on our way home, so he needed medical help. Twins discovered this,” Harry knocked at the bottom line about pregnancy, “they thought I might not believe them, so brought Malfoy here and he did the second scan in front of my eyes. Then Remus came,” Harry turned to Lupin, “why exactly had you come, by the way? You never told.”

“I was checking on the twins by Molly’s request,” Lupin replied.

“In the middle of the night?” Harry raised a surprised brow.

“I passed by on my way to the ‘Cauldron’ and saw the light,” Lupin shrugged. “At first I thought to come by in the morning, but decided on the late visit at the end, when sensed your smell,” he smiled. “I was hoping without hope that it’s not a mistake and they really found you.”

Harry smiled back at him: “Thanks, Moony.”

Voldemort cleared his throat accidentally echoing the similar act by Hermione.

“So you try to say that You-Know – V-Voldemort is – pregnant – ?” she clarified, thowing a horrified look at the man in question, when heard his yet another pointed cough. “What business do you have with this?” now she looked at Harry with the same terror written all over her face.

“I am the father,” Harry deadpanned with a strait face.

The Dark Lord emitted a low angry hiss at the implications of him being the ‘female’ of their interactions.

Hermione jumped in her chair with a violent startle.

Remus gasped, hearing his suspicions unconfirmed but not at the same moment.

Lucius acquired another nervous tick under his eye, rightly, as usual, guessing his master’s murderous mood.

The twins looked as though they would be very glad to have a camera right now to document the historical moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all you comments and likes, dears! I really appreciate that, and it gves me joy and the urge to write when I see your feedback! ♥♥♥


	9. ~VIII~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you for your feedback, dears!♥♥♥  
> Here's the promissed second chapter of this batch!  
> P.S, I don't stop to stress that I am not abandoning my stories, rest assured I'm either thinking them over or writing, maybe even now, when you are reading this.  
> Enjoy and don't forget to comment!

“B-but how – ?” Hermione finally found her voice after several long minutes of forced breathing.

“That hardly matters now,” interrupted Voldemort in cold tone. “Ms. Granger, I suggest you put up the Secrecy Veil and Silencing Barrier now,” he added in clipped tone.

“Wha – ?”

“Someone’s coming up the stairs,” Lupin confirmed tensely.

Hermione bristled and hastily waved her wand muttering all necessary incantations in one breath.

Harry let out a breath of relief simultaneously with the Dark Lord’s sigh, when they all felt the magical barriers appearing and the faint sounds from the outside disappearing into muffling silence.

“So – ?” Hermione prompted carefully, looking expectantly at Harry, and then – at Voldemort.

“So – what? I told you already everything of importance,” in hushed tone responded Harry. “We have another complication, as well, though I am starting to think they are related to each other.”

“What other complication?” Hermione suddenly lost all nervousness in view of interesting topic of research.

Harry glanced at the Dark Lord with unvoiced question and received a curt nod in reply.

“Our magic. It’s tangled. To be precise, he doesn’t have access to his own magical resources and instead takes my magic when casting.”

“It’s blocked from my conscious reach and goes elsewhere,” with a grimace elaborated Voldemort. “I suppose it feeds the fetus, actually,” he winced. “Rather inconvenient, I must say.”

“I beg to differ,” Harry snorted, “this way you cannot curse anyone else, and, when you try to curse me, your spells backfire,” he smirked with satisfaction.

“That can harm the baby, you know,” Hermione interjected in low tone.

“I guessed as much,” Harry replied. “And in the end it still hurts me, in a round-about way – he transmits everything through our mental connection.”

Voldemort hissed in annoyance.

“Fine! Go and spill all of our precious secrets to your little friends,” he gritted.

“Hey, Lucius here is not my friend! He’s yours!” Harry protested. “And that’s not all our secrets, but just one! And I think it’s important for the case!”

“That’s just your opinion,” Voldemort grumbled.

“You’re just pissy ‘cause that’s me who knocked up you and not the opposite,” Harry returned.

“I can still ‘transmit’ every morning sickness to you,” with a dry humor retorted Voldemort. “And when the time comes – the delivery pains!” His smirk widened.

Harry shuddered.

“Spare me,” he snorted.

“Guys, guys!” Hermione waved a hand between their faces. “Back to business, please!”

“You do not order me around, Ms. Granger,” grumbled Voldemort.

“I am begging you, Mr. Riddle, not ordering!” Hermione corrected him.

Voldemort winced. ‘ _Bloody mudblood!_ ’

“Ouch! Tom! That was rude!” Harry called out aloud. “Who said something about not insulting those present behind their backs?”

“You want me to repeat that aloud?” Voldemort asked surprised.

“Of course, not!” Harry huffed. Then turned to Hermione, “’Mione, would you be so kind as to not call this moron by his father’s name? It irks him something fierce. I won’t be responsible if next time he slips up and starts throwing wandless curses using **_my_** magic, just for everyone’s information.” His gaze returned to the Dark Lord: “I suggest you invent something less pompous than ‘the Dark Lord Voldemort’ for everyday use, then, if you’re so hellbent on not being called by your birth name.”

“I suppose, ‘Tom’ is fine,” reluctantly growled Voldemort.

“Okay, Mr. Tom, let us return to the earlier discussion,” Hermione sighed.

“Just Tom is enough. No ‘mister’,” The Dark Lord gritted, wincing. “And you’re right, let us go back to business.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but nodded.

“Where do we start researching then? I don’t know what libraries or bookstores would have something on male pregnancies. Frankly, I am not really sure there is anything at all written on this topic,” Hermione admitted.

“Old families’ libraries. If the necessary books exist, they might be found there. No public libraries would held such texts, I don’t think. And hardly any bookstore, either Light or Dark, would have such books. I would know if myself or any of my people stumbled upon this topic in the books anytime in their lives. So the old families with Death Eaters or former Knights of Walpurgis among them are out of the question.”

“Knights of Walpurgis?” Hermione asked curious.

“Old name for those who supported my cause back in the forties,” waving a hand in dismissal, responded Voldemort. “I suppose we could start with the Potter and Weasley libraries, if you have access to them, of course,” he added with a pointed look at the twins.

Harry smacked him upside the head.

“No insinuations!” he demonstrated clenched fist to the glaring Dark Lord. “And besides, I don’t have access to the Potter’s library myself!”

“What do you mean? Sure, you should have – ?” Voldemort started with surprise.

“Remus?” Harry looked at Lupin. “Do you know why? Or where is it at all? Godric’s Hollow?”

“Hardly. Your father’s parents lived in Stinchcombe, a small village in Gloucestershire. The Potter family originated there. Their Manor is still there, on the outskirts of the village. As far as I am aware, it had been put into mothballs for long term preservation after the death of your grand-parents and until the time you will reach the age of inheritance.”

“But I can visit it, right?” Harry asked unsure.

Remus shrugged.

“It maybe possible, but I am afraid you’d need the permission of your legal magical guardian ans well as the key and a password to bypass the preservation spell-net.”

“Guardian? What guardian?” Harry looked at Remus with wide eyes.

“Dumbledore,” Malfoy interjected. “He is your magical guardian, and quite possibly the holder of everything belonging to Potters. Until you come of age, of course.”

“And that is – when?” Harry asked, his face darkening.

“Five weeks ago,” Lucius snorted and sent a meaningful look his lord’s way.

“Wh-what?!” Harry stuttered in surprise and shock.

“Technically, the wizard is emancipated, that is – comes of age, when he sires an offspring. In old days that was done so that young lords would take responsibility for their debaucheries.”

“How so?” Hermione asked in wonder. “Should it not do the opposite – encourage them to flirt with girls early?”

“On one hand you are right, Ms. Granger,” Lucius nodded. “On the other, imagine such a lord facing his own son’s early emancipation, because he showed his son a certain example by his own early marriage?”

“Mar-riage?” issued Voldemort tensely.

“Yes, my Lord, because early emancipation due to impregnation of a woman at young age automatically enters them both into marital contract. Magical in itself, of course.”

“How long?” the Dark Lord let out through gritted teeth, going very white in the face.

“Pardon me?”

“How much time do we have?! Until the marriage should be completed?!”

“What?!” Harry’s voice went painfully high in pitch. “What do you mean ‘marriage’?!”

“What part of ‘magical marital contract’ do you not understand, Potter?” in rough voice quiped Voldemort. “Marital pertains to an agreement and obligation to enter a marriage, magical contract binds its participants with their own magic. And in case of unfulfilment the magic goes ‘puff!’ and we are squibs!” The last word was uttered in a hoarse voice.

Harry gulped with difficulty and looked pleadingly at Lucius.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“Of what, Mr. Potter? Your emancipation? It comes into action automatically and is moved by magic, and not by some civil services worker. The contract is the same, you have a hundred days from the moment of your emancipation to enter a marriage with a person with whom you’ve sired an offspring. Otherwise the magic itself comes into play and, like my Lord said, you become squibs.”

“Hold on, for a second,” Hermione interrupted the discussion with quivering voice, “You said ‘sire an offspring’, but isn’t it the birth of a baby?”

“I may have accidentaly used incorrect term, Ms. Granger. The better word would be ‘concieve’, not ‘sire’, as, you’re correct, usually that term pertains to a birth of a baby, not the act of, hmm, coercion.” Lucius pursed his lips and shook his head. “Pardon me for my crudeness, my Lord. I simply meant that now, after five weeks have passed already, you have about two months ahead of you to organise the wedding and enter a marriage with Mr. Potter, unless both of you want to loose your magic.”

“That’s undebatable!”

“Of course not!”

Harry and Voldemort reacted almost in unison, startling other participants of the discussion.

“Harry, may I talk to you for a second?” Lupin suddenly requested, motioning towards the bedroom door.

Harry winced:  
“I think I know what you want to talk about,” he muttered annoyed. “Fine, let’s go. Hermione, can you, please, make a Silencing Barrier for the bedroom? I suspect it’d be useful.”

The girl nodded and quickly spelled the door and walls around it.

“Here.”

“Thank you. Come on, Remus,” Harry went ahead, not waiting for the werevolf.

  


“So, speak up, Moony,” Harry urged, after Lupin came inside and closed the door.

“Harry,” Lupin began uncertainly. “Maybe you should consider the other options, aside from marriage?” he probed carefully.

“Like what? Loosing us both our magic? You think his dowfall is worth my magic?” Harry raised the brow.

“We won’t love you any less, if you become a squib,” Remus tried to assure him.

“And is his failure worth a child’s life?” Harry asked quietly. “My child’s life?”

“Wh-what are talkng about?”

“Moony, I am no medic or scholar, but am pretty sure, that during male pregnancy a child is supported by the bearer’s magic. Or maybe even by both parents’ magic, who knows. And now think: what’ll happen to a child concieved by magic and supported by it while in a womb, if that magic suddenly disappears? Will it survive? I am uncertain it can hold on till its birth, as the bearer’s body is not intended for carying a child at all by nature and only magic allows this. So I ask again, are you suggesting I put my child’s life on the line? And who said, that without magic he’d be less of a Dark Lord he is now? Look at him. He should be vulnerable in this state, he doesn’t have access to his own magic already, but still – he remains the same. His right-hand man didn’t abandon him, and his thinking and methods didn’t change either.”

“Magic is still his most powerful weapon, without it he’d be weakened enough – ”

“Go on, try it. He is bearing a child he was not ready for, he is without his magic and in general tired and weakened after everything we went through. I even may give you back your wand. If you manage to at least scratch him, I promise to concider your words.”

Harry shoved Remus’ wand into his hands and went out of the bedroom without another word.

  


Lupin slowly exited the bedroom after Harry, his posture falsely relaxed and gaze downcast. Before anyone could react to the wand clearly seen in his hand, he was firing a curse in the Dark Lord’s direction, followed by a whole string of spells and curses afterwards.

None of them hit their target.

Most of them were deflected by Voldemort himself with the help of either the furniture or tableware. One was caught by Lucius’ wandless shield. And the only spell, which found a target, hit Harry, who jumped in front of Voldemort, acting as a living shield, although in the very last second he was roughly shoved to the side from the line of fire by the Dark Lord’s hand.

In the next blink of an eye the beam of light and the spell reached their target, and both men let out a simultaneous yowl of pain, doubling over and immediately dropping to their knees, their hands held to their chests and stomachs.

“Lupin!!!” Voldemort growled, in one fluid motion, not hindered by his obvious injury, jumping the werevolf and reaching out with his hands towards the man’s throat.

Harry coughed and with a grunt stood up, then tried to repeat the same action, though he was on the contrary attempting to stop Voldemort and shield Lupin from his wrath.

In the end they both collided with each other and stumbled to the ground under Lupin’s feet, succesfully dropping him in the same heap in the process.

“Harry!” Hermione yelped, attempting to run towards the fallen men.

Voldemort, however, was the first to stand up, or rather kneel, after he managed to untangle himself from the others and wrestled Lupin’s wand from him, during their short fight freeing Harry’s form, as well.

It looked more like it was Voldemort, who was after all hit by the spell, and not Harry: the Dark Lord was nursing his midsection, his face scrunched in obvious pain, and a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth mirrored the one from Harry’s.

“What have you done, Lupin?!” growled Voldemort, still holding one hand to his own abdomen, and threateningly pointing the wand, he won, at its former master, with his other hand.

Harry was holding a hand to the side of his head with already forming bruise, and holding his other hand very carefully to his chest, his face ashen.

“I-I – ” stammered Lupin.

“Lucius, bind him!” barked Voldemort, “Here!” he threw Malfoy’s wand, which he has just picked up from whre Harry had dropped it earlier, to Lucius.

Malfoy quickly uttered the incantation, successfully roping the werevolf.

“Harry – ?” Voldemort inquired, not looking at the boy.

“Alright,” Harry grunted.

Voldemort turned his attention to the twins, who managed to avoid the confrontation all toghether.

“Gentlemen, may I borrow your bathroom for a moment?” he asked coldly, not a muscle twitching on his face, which was turning more and more greenish with any passing second.

“R-right. Bathroom,” one of the red-heads gulped and pointed to the non-descript door near the bedroom entrance. “Over there.”

“Thank you,” Voldemort let out with cold politeness, then without any rush calmly proceded to the directed door and disappeared inside, tightly closing it behind himself. 

  


“Harry,” Hermione sniffled and at last rushed to the side of her friend. “Are you really okay?”

“I’ll live,” Harry muttered through gritted teeth, then his face, too, turned very green, and he gulped with audible difficulty. “Shit!” he swore under his breath, jumping to his feet and rushing to the same door, where the Dark Lord gone to earlier with much less grace and decorum.

“Har – ” Hermione’s worried call was cut off by the once again tightly closed door.

* * *

When Harry exited the bathroom with Voldemort on his heels, he was expecting anything from the coup d’etat of the Light side of their little clique, to the single-handedly performed act of Dark vengeance by Malfoy. Instead, another feeling of deja-vu fell on him: the twins, Hermione and Malfoy calmly drank their tea, while Lupin sat, tightly bound to his chair and even gagged, though he, too, had a cup of tea at the table in front of him. Judging by the twins snickering and smirking, that was their idea of vengeance.

“Are you okay now, Harry?” Hermione asked in uncertain tone. Then, after a brief contemplation, looked at the Dark Lord: “Tom, how are you feeling?”

“I am as good as can be expected, Ms. Granger, thank you for your concern,” in a cold tone responded Voldemort, at the same time with Harry’s short “I’m fine” said with a tired smile.

They both came up to the table and sat at their respective chairs. Hermione stood up to pour them new cups of tea.

“Chamomile, Tom?” she suggested in domestic tone.

“Yes, please,” he drawled.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, thanks, ‘Mione.”

“So, Mr. Lupin, what should we do with you?” in a conversational tone inquired Voldemort.

By a inviting gesture of his hand Malfoy removed the gag from the werevolf’s mouth.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Lupin muttered. “I didn’t expect you to jump in front of that spell.”

“What?! I shoud have stepped aside and allowed my unborn child to be hit with a potentially letal curse?!” Harry exclaimed irked.

“But – ”

“No, Remus! No ‘buts’! Really, I hadn’t thought that my words would be taken literaly! I considered you mature adult with brains, no bold and idiotic Griffindor teenager as you appear to be. I would have expected something like this from Sirius, but you was always the level headed one!”

“Harry, please!” Remus’ face contorted with emotional pain. “If Sirius would be here now he’d be doing the same – ”

“You know, I think, he’d be supporting me and my decisions, actually, instead of attempting to attack my – ” Harry coughed, going a bit red in the face, but found the voice again quickly, “my bethrotted and my unborn heir!”

Remus shook his head, a pleading look on his face:  
“Harry, you don’t need to pretend – ”

“But I am NOT!!!” Harry rose his voice. “You don’t know what we’ve been through, you don’t know anything about him!” he pointed to the Dark Lord, who sat back with impassive face, calmly observing the unfolding drama. “I have said earlier, had I not? We might had not anticipated the outcome, but the act itself was mutual. Or do you think he forced me to fuck him?! I wonder, how that could be done, if at all!” Harry shook his head, then fell back on his chair and hid his face in his hands with a groan. “Remus, I didn’t think you’re so under Dumbledore’s thumb,” he muttered into his hands. “You can do with him what you want, Tom, I don’t care anymore,” in harsh voice, muffled by his palms, finished Harry, slightly sliding down his chair tiredly.

“Oh, Harry, you’re so generous,” purred Voldemort suavely, “I don’t know what to do with your grand offer, really,” he added sardonically. “Should I kill him?” Harry bristled at his words. “Thought not,” the Dark Lord smirked devilishly. “Then how about Obliviate? Ah, I forgot! I can’t use my magic. What a pity! Then should I bodily strangle him after all?” the mockery in Voldemort’s tone was growing more intense with each of his suggestions.

“Oh, will you stop already?!” Hermione interrupted angrilly. “Don’t you have anything less violent in your arsenal? You are pregnant, for Morgana’s sake!”

The Dark Lord hissed in outrage, his blood-red eyes flashing, and threw a hand her way, in a clear attempt of attack.

“I am not a bloody woman, girl!” he whispered in deadly undertone. “Don’t you dare to imply – !” he was cut short by a smack upside his head from Harry.

“In the name of Merlin, Tom, stop being a pussy!” Harry exclaimed. “Nobody says you’re a woman! What ‘Mione is trying to say is that pregnancy should make a person kinder, more considerate to others – ”

“Forget it, Potter! I am the Dark Lord Voldemort, I have no heart or feelings. This freak accident does not mean I am going to suddenly change into a spineless snivelling pansy you draw me as in your fantasies!”

“What?! ‘Freak accident’?!” Harry jumped to his feet, sending daggers with his eyes to the similarly angry Voldemort, glaring at him in return. “You know, I think I just toss you out on the street and be done with it,” Harry’s voice dropped to the tired whisper. “Like Lupin said earlier, I don’t doubt that my friends would love me the same if I became a squib. I lived in Muggle world before and can still survive without magic. Bet, you can’t, but I don’t care anymore. Get out!” he pointed towards the entrance door.

“Harry!” Hermione tried to reason with him, but he just shook his head. “No. I am done. Get out now, Tom, before I threw you out with my own hands,” Harry made a meaningful step to the still sitting Dark Lord. “Or do you want to test how my magic works against you?” Harry rose an eyebrow suggestively and slowly took out his wand, though he didn’t yet pointed it at the Dark Lord.

“You wouldn’t,” Voldemort muttered unsure.

“Try me,” Harry spat, before gritting out an angry “Stupefy!” with a swish of his wand.

His spell went astray, but still both his and Voldemort’s faces whitened, the Dark Lord swayed in his chair and only his steadying hand on the table’s edge prevented his fall; Harry, on the other hand, didn’t even attempt to stay upright, doubling over and falling to his knees with both his hands on his abdomen, shuddering and lowly moaning from pain, the next second after the spell left his wand and he dropped it to the ground with a loud clatter.

“What an idiot!” huffed Hermione, rushing at first to her friend, before the Dark Lord lost his balance after all, also falling to his knees beside Harry.

“Imbecile!” the Dark Lord hissed harshly, clutching Harry’s shoulders and looking into his face with intense stare, while the boy rolled his eyes, fainting. “Lucius, enervate him!” he ordered, not releasing the body, and instead tightly clutching Harry’s unconscious form to his chest.

“Yes, my Lord, of course,” Malfoy murmured the incantation under his breath, trying to wake Harry, but, it seemed, the spell didn’t work. The Dark Lord silently glared at his Leutenant and hissed threateningly in a lowl tone, “Sorry, my Lord. I’ll repeat the spell right now,” Malfoy promissed.

“Forget it!” after the second failed attempt barked the Dark Lord. “We’ll retire for some rest, then, gentlemen, Ms. Granger,” he suggested. “I suspect his body is simply too tired to wake right now. Lucius, stay on guard, and wake me if anything happens,” the Dark Lord stood in one fluid motion, getting Harry into his hands with ease, and both of them disappeared inside the bedroom, the door closing behind the retreating forms.

* * *

Harry thought, the morning of this chaotic night was long overdue, when he came to his senses after the latest ordeal, in the strangest position yet to wake to: his head rested on one of the Dark Lord’s shoulders, his own shoulder was _embraced_ (as Harry couldn’t find a better word for this) by Voldemort so tightly that there should already be forming a bruise under his hand. Maybe in different circumstances it would look rather romantic and domestic, but considering how they came to it, Harry thout, it was mildly _disturbing_ to wake in the _loving_ hands of the Dark Lord. And that what those were: loving hands. Because, despite the tightness of the grip, the gesture itself and peaceful look on Voldemort’s face implied nothing wrong, and also – Harry felt it inside. In their intertwined minds, in this tight but still careful grip on his shoulder, in the trust the Dark Lord placed in him, even in spite of their earlier very violent fight, by sleeping calmly when there was a potential enemy armed with a wand, when he himself was unable to cast a single spell.

Harry shook his head in disbelief: his own thoughts occurred to him so mushy and girly, that he started to doubt that, possibly, the pregnancy could be contagious like a virus, and he was already there as well.

Voldemort hmm’ed in his sleep with a question to his tone.

“Ah, alright. I’m good,” Harry muttered in a quiet whisper, not ready to face the man yet, so trying not to wake him, and made himself more comfortable on the offered shoulder and closed back his eyes in hopes to sleep some more of his tiredness off.

Unfortunately, his sleep never returned, instead a thousand thoughts and questions started their neverending dance in Harry’s head: what should he do with the Dark Lord, how to solve the ‘Remus problem’, should he really speak with those he consider almost family and closest of his friends, at least, when they do something with the Dark Lord’s loss of magic and it would be safer for – 

Harry’s thoughts stopped abruptly, like he came to the unbreakable wall inside his head: ‘safer for’ whom exactly? For the Dark Lord? He was deadly dangerous even without his wand and magic, Harry knew it and saw the confirmations pretty often these days. For Harry’s friends? How they could be safe when there is the deadly dangerous Dark Lord with the full access to his magic out there? Even far away? And Harry was thinking of – what? _Introducing_ them to each other?!

Harry’s breathing became more rabid just from thinking this. He dared to throw a glance at Voldemort’s face – he was still deep in sleep, it seemed, and the mental connection cofirmed this, too, so Harry calmed down, his thoughts returning and starting to waltz in an endless circle in his mind.

* * *

* * *

**_As a small additional treat for all of you, here's the draft snippet of the next chapter (might be amended, when put up within a whole chapter later)._ **

* * *

...“Come hither,” muttered Voldemort in an undertone, tightening his grip on Harry’s shoulder more and succesfully pinning him closer to himself. He scrutinised Harry’s visage thoroughly, before leaning over and putting his lips on Harry’s in a soft kiss.

‘ _What are you doing?!_ ’ Harry exclaimed inside their minds, disturbed.

‘ _Kissing you. What does it look like?_ ’ Voldemort responded with a mild snort.

‘ _Why?_ ’

‘ _Strange question –_ ’

Voldemort hummed thoughtfully into Harry’s mouth, still only pressing his lips to the boy’s, and not doing anything else.

Harry at last got bored enough with their slightly idiotic position, so he tryied to deepen their kiss, his tongue almost accidentally slipping deeper into the Dark Lord’s mouth and nearly to his throat, in his clumsy attepmt at kissing. He got roughly yanked even more closer by the collar for his efforts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, because I wanted to treat you with two chaps at once I now have only a small bit written of the next part. So I might or might not take my time writing (and quite possibly doing it as usual - preparing at least two chapters before posting anything). And as I am still overwhelmed with family matters and some working as well, the time, before next chapter would be posted, can be somewhat long. Or not (depends... on nothing really, if my muse shows up it can speed things up or slow them down without my control :p ).

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother-tongue, so, please, pardon any mistakes you find and point them out (but do it kindly, please ;-) ). Although, I work as a translator and graduated from Irish college with the BA in Journalism, so I'd like to think that my English is not so hopeless :p


End file.
